Fairly Weathered
by KillehKiwi
Summary: Calvin Baker moves into 221C Baker Street, unbeknownst that the proclaimed most infuriating man in all of London is living just upstairs. Upon meeting him, however, her opinion is not that of everyone else. She finds him overwhelmingly interesting. Her past is something that she wants him to figure out. She wants to be deduced. But how long will his interest be held? Sherlock/OC
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock bounded down the steps of 221B Baker Street, finally leaving his flat after at least a week of laying around, bored out of his wits. He was driving John absolutely insane.

They had just received a call from Lestrade, asking Sherlock to come in on a case. Esctatic, Sherlock fairly lept off the couch and hurried down the steps, John in tow, shouting for him to wait one moment for _god's_ sake.

"Mrs. Hudson, we're off. Don't wait u-..." Sherlock began to shout before he noticed something... different in the foyer of his apartment complex. His critical eye was aimed towards the floor. Dried footprints with just a hint of mud went from the door to down the hall, ending at apartment 221C, the empty flat. The shoes were much too large to be of Mrs. Hudson's foot, and the space between steps was all wrong.

"Sherlock?" John asked, following his gaze.

"Mrs. Hudson, who is in the apartment?" Sherlock called, heading down the hallway to his landlord's open door. She appeared from the kitchen.

"Oh, Sherlock, dear. It's the new girl whose moved in. Hadn't you noticed?"

"No, he's been holed up in our flat, whining about how dull the world is for the past week." John explained grumpily, and Sherlock exhaled in irritation.

"Well, she came to look at the flat around last Tuesday and has been here ever sense." Mrs. Hudson explained. "She's a very nice girl, now, Sherlock. I don't want you scaring her off."

"Would not dream of it, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock mumbled back, and made a beeline for the closed door of 221C.

"Sherlock..." John warned, trailing after him, but he paid no mind as he knocked crisply on the door.

Footsteps were heard from beyond the door, and Sherlock waited impatiently for her to answer.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, I was just about to come over and - oh. Hello, I'm sorry." the woman who answered the door. Her voice was pleasant and soft.

"You must be the two I've heard so much about. I'm Calvin Baker, pleased to meet you." she cocked

"John Watson," the shorter of the two men said quickly, stepping up to shake her hand. "And this is -"

"Sherlock Holmes," the taller one interrupted. "And Calvin cannot possibly be your real name. You're obviously female. Are you possibly looking into a gender change?"

Calvin blinked, unaccustomed to such blatant speech. However, she simply cocked her head and laughed softly. "Yes, I am a female. How observant of you." she joked quietly, and although the words could have been taken as spiteful from another person, her words were gentle and had no hint of hurtful intentions.

"And it is true that Calvin is not my 'real' name, but it is, however, the name that you will address me by." she explained further, leaning against the doorframe. "And no, I am not looking into a sex change at this point in my life."

"Sorry. He does that." John apologized, glancing sideways at Sherlock. "And he also does this thing where -"

"Slight, in the way that suggests that you don't eat much. Is it because you're stressed or do not have the means to buy food? Stressed. Not a monetary issue, your clothes are brand new and stylish to today's fashion. Lack of muscle suggests that your slim build has nothing to do with exercise, just lack of nutrition. Late twenties, I'd say twenty-nine by the look of your face. Hair is not dyed, no cosmetic surgery. Minimal make up. Suggests that you are happy with your appearance, which is attractive enough to catch a man's eye but there is no ring on your finger. You live alone. Possibly your first home away from your parents. The calouses on your right hand say that you are a writer, and prefer to use pen and paper instead of computer methods. However, your wrists have the slightly inflamed look of one who has had carpal tunnel. You spend a lot of time on your computer, so you have probably submitted books to publishers. You also like to paint, as your hands have specks of paint under your nails and in your hair. The crease on your neck says that you were just wearing a smock, and took it off to greet us at the door. Your hair was also just taken out of a ponytail, and your lips have a fresh coat of shine to them. You acted as though you were expecting Mrs. Hudson, whom you've already been aquainted, but in reality you knew there were two gentlemen coming to your door and made an effort to look more presentable. You would not have done so for her."

Calvin blinked up at Sherlock, and then proceeded to chuckle at his description of her. "Well that is very impressive, Mr. Holmes." she commended, grinning. John sighed in relief. Usually, people were insulted by Sherlock's deductions of them. However, this one had been rather mild compared to others he took apart with his eyes.

"All that you've said is true, except I'm a university psychology teacher. That's why my fingers are caloused, from grading papers and writing up lesson plans on my computer." Calvin told him, though she didn't seem to be smug that he was wrong.

"Always something." Sherlock murmured, disappointed.

"Would you like some tea? I just put the kettle on. Maybe then you can tell me my whole life story, including why I call myself Calvin." she invited a bit teasingly, stepping aside to make room for them to come in.

"We have somewhere to be, Miss. Baker." John said apologetically, trying to avoid having Sherlock insult this girl. He had been lucky, and she hadn't been even irritated by Sherlock's tendencies. But there was only so much you can take from Sherlock before even the most patient people get angry with him. He wanted to at least not make her hate him _today_.

"Quite right." Sherlock agreed, turning and heading out the door abruptly. "Don't wait up, Mrs. Hudson!"

"Good evening, Ms. Baker." John said, giving a little wave to her. She smiled at him, returning the gesture before calling the same invite to Mrs. Hudson, who agreed to come by for tea within the hour.

Calvin was truly delighted in the people who lived upstairs. She found Sherlock very interesting. And handsome. Very handsome. Shrugging that off without another thought, she went back to her canvas.

When there were Mrs. Hudson's timid knocks on the door, Calvin once again abandoned her canvas and opened it, inviting her landlord in warmly.

"I brought a batch of cookies for you, dear. You're much too skinny." Mrs. Hudson said, placing the still-warm batch of chocolate chip on the counter. Calvin smiled gratefully, and poured them each a cup of tea.

"What kind of tea is this?" Mrs. Hudson asked after her first sip. Calvin smiled a bit sheepishly.

"It's a an exotic tea my mother sends me in the mail. She swears by it that it keeps you young. I personally just like the taste."

"If your mother's right, I'd like a lifetime supply, dear." Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, and Calvin chuckled into her cup.

"I'll give you a box to take back with you. I have plenty stored up." Calvin offered kindly, and the two were silent as they took sips and Calvin nibbled on a cookie, simply for Mrs. Hudson's sake.

"So, Miss. Baker, what did you think of the boys? Either of them catch your eye?"

Calvin smiled. "Call me Calvin. Sherlock is certainly an interesting fellow. And John's a very sweet man." she replied.

"Oh, yes. They are good boys. Sherlock's a detective and John's a doctor." Mrs, Hudson told her. "They work with Scotland Yard from time to time."

"Really? I suppose that's fitting for Sherlock. He knew me to a T before I even said anything to him."

"He does do that... to everyone, dear, don't take it personally. I just hope he wasn't too abrasive."

"No, no, not at all. I actually quite liked it." Calvin said, smiling. "It's a unique talent."

"He has his own website, you know. John writes about all their cases on it."

The conversation basically centered around Sherlock and John's career with Scotland Yard, as well as Mrs. Hudson's subtle remarks that made it seem as though she would enjoy it very much for Calvin to have a relationship with either of the boys.

Calvin laughed those off.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock's voice yelled through the complex suddenly during their conversation. Calvin looked up as he bounded into her flat with John in tow.

"Yes, dear? What is it?"

"Do you have any chicken wire that I can use?" Sherlock demanded, not even sparing a glance for Calvin.

"Yes, of course. Come along." she said, heading out the door. "Thank you very much for the tea, dear."

"Of course, Mrs. Hudson. It was a pleasure to have you here." Calvin said kindly, while Sherlock waited impatiently for Mrs. Hudson to get him the wire.

"Miss. Baker, why don't you come up for afternoon tea tomorrow?" John asked, feeling obligated to invite his new neighbor over to apologize for Sherlock's rudeness.

"John! This is no time for your sad attempts at flirting with the opposite sex! Get _in_ here!" Sherlock called from Mrs. Hudson's flat. Calvin grinned at John.

"I'll be there." she said sweetly, standing and pouring herself the last of the tea. John noddede and trotted back to Sherlock, who was again bellowing for his friend to help him with whatever they were doing.

Looking after them curiously, Calvin took her tea and went for her laptop, sprawling herself out on her bed to surf the web.

She typed 'Sherlock Holmes' into the browser.

OoOoOoOoOo

_The Next Morning_

Calvin got up early, put on a pair of dark blue jeans, a blue and white button-down, and a black peacoat and left her dark brown hair down for the day. She needed to go out and get some more ink for her printer. She had to print the Class Expectations and Syllabus for her first class of the fall semester, which started next week.

It was the end of summer, but the air was already cooling down significantly and it had rained the day before. It was dry today, but cooler.

As she locked her flat, she noticed that John and Sherlock were just coming in. She cocked her head, it was very early and they had already left and come back?

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson." she said pleasantly, heading for the door.

"'Morning." Sherlock answered dismissively, passing her. John, however, waited.

"Good morning, Miss. Baker. Still coming up for tea later?" he asked, smiling at her. Calvin nodded.

"Of course. What time would you like me to come up, then?"

"Twelve? Will you be back from your errand by then?"

"Sounds fabulous. I'll be there." Calvin confirmed with a smile. John nodded, following Sherlock as Calvin turned to leave.

"Oh! I almost forgot. I looked you two up last night." she said, blatantly disregarding the fact that it was considered somewhat creepy to search for people on the internet.

"Oh?" Sherlock said, pausing at the top of the stairs. "And what did you find?"

"Your website. Which was fascinating. I did enjoy reading about the two-hundred and forty three types of tobacco ash. But I was very impressed with your writing, Mr. Watson." she praised smiling up at him on the steps. "Have you ever considered being a writer?"

"Uh, well, thank you." John said, flustered.

"Really, it's quite good. You should write them as novels and sell them. _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_, perhaps." she told him with a smile. She glanced up at Sherlock as well, who had a blank look on his face.

"And you are very impressive as well, Mr. Holmes, although I believe that you already know that." Calvin said, turning to leave. "I'll see you gentlemen in a few hours."

With that, she stepped out into the street and hailed a cab to take her shopping.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Helllurrrr everyone.

I really have a headache right now but let me know how you like my first chapter of this new story of mine. I know, I know, I need to do Avenge the Love and the sequel to Circuit Breaker and update Heroic Couplet and Law and Disorder. But I promise, every single one of those (including this) will get at _**LEAST**_one update a week. Probably more, never less. It's summer and I need to write a shitton of stuff.

Okay let me know what you think. Yes, it's boring and Calvin's kinda blah right now but I have so much in store for her that it's scary and I'm really excited.

Just wait til we get to the twist. Muahahahahaha. It'll ruin your life.

ANYWAY. Please remember to review and give me insight, as well as check out anything else I've written and send me fanmail and fun things. Okay I'm done being annoying. Ciao!

Love you all!

Jess


	2. Chapter 2

Calvin came back around eleven thirty that morning, and quickly set to work on changing the ink in her printer and printing out the paperwork for her fifty-seven students that would be in her first psychology class Monday of next week and then the sixty-four that were in the one which would start on Wednesday of that same week.

The class of fifty-seven met on Mondays and Thursdays every week and the class of sixty-four met on Wednesdays and Fridays, Tuesday becoming her office day.

Calvin stacked the papers into their respective piles, using a big black clip to hold them all together, and stuck them into her stylish black work bag that doubled as her laptop case.

The old grandfather clock that she had been given by her late grandmother chimed, signalling that it was twelve and she should head upstairs for tea.

Knowing that Sherlock would notice, and probably comment, she ran a brush through her hair and changed clothes. It had warmed up considerably since earlier that morning, so she changed from jeans into shorts and a t-shirt. Make up was re-applied and she headed up the stairs to 221B.

She knocked, and John answered the door almost immediately.

"Hi, John." she said pleasantly, opting to use a more casual greeting than 'Mr. Watson'. "You don't mind me calling you John, do you?"

"Uh, no. No, not at all. May I call you Calvin?"

"Of course. You both can." she said, glancing over at Sherlock who was sprawled over in the armchair, staring up at the ceiling.

"Hello, Miss. Baker. Your outfit's changed." he said, sweeping his gaze over to her fleetingly.

"Well, it's gotten a bit warmer since this morning."

"Really? Hadn't noticed..." Sherlock murmured, disinterested, as he returned his gaze to the ceiling.

"Well, then, I'll get the tea. Please, do sit, Calvin." John told her, and she moved to sit on the couch.

"Not there." Sherlock murmured, pointing a finger at her. Calvin cocked her head in question. "I sit there."

"But you're not sitting here now." Calvin told him, amused. She did stand up and move to another chair, however, to oblige him.

"My mood changes frequently. I may need to sit there to think better in a few minutes. When I become bored of this chair." he explained in the same monotone as his eyes were burning holes in the ceiling. Calvin followed his gaze, smiling at him curiously.

"Sugar, Calvin?" John called from the kitchen.

"Black, thanks." Calvin answered, reaching up to receive the cup from John's outstretched hand. She took a sip.

"So, Calvin, you said yesterday that you're a psychology professor?" John asked, also sipping at his tea. Calvin smiled and nodded.

"Last time I checked, yes." she said teasingly, leaning back in her chair. "And Mrs. Hudson says that you're a doctor."

"I am, yes. Although I mostly just help Sherlock with his cases anymore. It doesn't really do to work days and then galavant around the city with that one all night." John explained, smiling.

"Interesting. And you help Scotland Yard with... "

"Solving cases that they can't themselves."

"Which is all of them." Sherlock interjected, turning his head slightly.

Calvin laughed, delighted. "I'm sure they appreciate your help, Mr. Holmes." she said pleasantly. Sherlock 'humph'd' and turned his gaze back on the ceiling.

The conversation drifted between work and family, and ended with Calvin inviting John and Sherlock over for dinner sometime that week, to which John agreed to wholeheartedly and Sherlock made no attempt to confirm that he would be there.

"I'd best be off, then." Calvin said, rising from her chair. John walked her to the door, and as soon as her head disappeared from Sherlock's view, he called, "Miss. Baker. What was your father's name."

She popped her head back in, smirking. "His name was Calvin." she told him.

"Is your father alive, Miss. Baker?"

"No, I'm afraid my mother and father died in a car crash when they went on holiday to America last year." she answered, then glanced at John. "Sorry, that didn't come up."

"I'm sorry to hear that." John said quickly, sympathizing with her.

"Since your father is dead," Sherlock interrupted. "You must find some sentimental value in taking his name and using it as your own, to keep the memory of him alive. I imagine that you were very close to your father to do this. I'm right, I suspect." He turned his eyes at her and a spark of triumph glittered in his strangely colored eyes.

Calvin paused for a moment, making it seem as though Sherlock was correct, but then burst into uncharacteristic laughter for such a topic, and shook her head. "Ah, no. A genuinely good guess, but that's not why I call myself Calvin." she said, amused by his guess. Sherlock gritted his teeth and his gaze at the ceiling turned more into a glare.

"Try again tomorrow, you'll get it eventually." she teased, which caused Sherlock to intensify his glare at the ceiling. "And in response to you, John, I hardly am sorry over what happened. I rarely spoke to them after I turned sixteen."

"But you said that I was correct in saying yesterday that this was your first home away from your parents." Sherlock accused, believing to have caught her in a lie.

Calvin cocked her head and smiled once more. "Who ever said that I considered those two people my parents?" she asked him, straightening up. "Good day, gentlemen. I hope to see you for dinner soon."

"'Bye..." John said, turning from the door as Calvin bounded down the stairs to her flat below. He heard her door close before he spoke to Sherlock.

"So... what do you think of her, then?" he asked, sitting back down. Sherlock gave a noncommittal snort.

"I want to know what else I got wrong." he told John, standing and stalking towards the door, meaning to go down and demand answers from the girl downstairs.

"Oh, no you don't. She's invited us to dinner one night. Leave her be for now." John told him, blocking the door. "Besides, she's very nice and you've deduced her enough for one day."

Sherlock pursed his lips and looked down at John. "We're going to dinner. Soon." he demanded, turning and going into the kitchen.

"I thought that was already decided...?" John mumbled after him, but the taller man paid no mind.

OoOoOoOoOo

It had been a few days since Calvin had gone up for tea with the two men upstairs, and she was beginning to wonder if they would be coming for dinner anytime soon. Or if they'd let her know in advance. Not too perturbed, she decided to paint a bit. Her art was best late at night, and it was going on twelve.

She was interrupted, however, by a gunshot from upstairs that startled her and caused her to mis-stroke on the page, creating a terrible black smear across the colors. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, before two more shots went off.

"What in the hell..." Calvin muttered, throwing off her smock and bounding up the stairs to 221B. She entered the room warily, and spotted Sherlock pointing a gun at the wall.

"Bored!" he announced, not seeing her. He shot at the light above them, shattering the glass. it tinkled to the ground in shards.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, coming into the room angrily. "It's twelve thirty at night and you're shooting a gun _again_. You're going to wake the whole damned street!"

"I'm bored!" Sherlock told him, shooting again.

"What, you're bored so you start shooting up the place?" Calvin asked, obviously amused by this. Sherlock and Jonh both turned towards the door to see her standing there, paint smeared across her face as well as a smirk.

"Ever hear of turning on the telly when you're bored, then?" she continued, taking another step into the room. "Maybe reading a book? Painting the next Mona Lisa? Writing the next Shakespeare masterpiece? There's plenty of things to do when you're bored, Mr. Holmes. None of which involve shooting firearms. Which reminds me, why do you have a gun?"

"It's John's." Sherlock said dismissively, dropping it on the couch.

"I was asking why you had a gun in your hand, not why you keep a gun." Calvin clarified, smiling wider. "But that's interesting. John, why do _you_ have a gun in your _possession_?"

"He was in the army, isn't it obvious?" Sherlock told her.

"Not to a person like me, Mr. Holmes. Thank you for the clarification." Calvin told him, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall behind her.

"It must be even duller being you, not able to see what is right in front of you." Sherlock mumbled, glancing up at her. It was meant to be insulting, but Calvin merely laughed, much to Sherlock's displeasure.

"I agree. I'd like to see the world how you can, Mr. Holmes. But, alas, I am a mere mortal. How tragic." Calvin teased, which only succeeded in irritating Sherlock further. She glanced at John, who was standing in the kitchen, and saw a bag of what seemed to be fingers. Human fingers.

"Are those fingers?" she asked, pointing at them.

"Yeah, uh, those... those are fingers, yeah." John said, picking up the bag and throwing them in the fridge with what seemed to be a heart.

"Experiment." Sherlock said dismissively, pressing his fingers together. Calvin didn't question it. "John. I need a case."

"We'll get you a case in the morning, Sherlock. Go to bed." John told him, his voice beginning to get tired again. Sherlock scoffed at the idea of sleep.

"I'll leave you two, then." Calvin said, turning away and heading back out the door. "Good night, gentlemen. I sincerely hope you aren't bored again tonight, Mr. Holmes. For you sake and the rest of the street's." With that, she disappeared back down the steps.

"Tomorrow, John!" Sherlock called after his flatmate as he, too, headed into his room.

"What are you going on about now?" John asked, reappearing.

"Dinner tomorrow. With her." he clarified impatiently, turning his gaze onto John.

"Shouldn't we, y'know, ask _her_ if tomorrow is alright?"

"She invited us anytime this week. Tomorrow is Thursday. That is a part of this week." Sherlock told him. "I need her name."

"Maybe it's personal, Sherlock. You shouldn't go digging around in other people's lives. Just let it be."

"No, no, she _wants_ me to figure it out. She's too smugly evasive for it to be anything else." Sherlock said, irritated. "Honestly, John, how do you _not_ see that."

"Uh, maybe because I simply see it as she calls herself by a man's name for a reason and that reason is private?" John grumbled, turning around. "I'm going to bed, Sherlock. Don't shoot off the gun again, or I swear to _god_..." the rest of the sentence was lost to Sherlock because he stopped listening.

OoOoOoOoOo

Yay second chapter in a timely manner! Yay!

I rather like writing Calvin. She's different than any character that I've ever written before. I hope ya'lls like her, too. Just so you are aware, this is placed between The Blind Baker and The Great Game. So fuck yeah Moriarty will join the party! (RHYMES.)

And then Irene Adler who is so fucking awesome I can't even begin to describe my love for her. Gah.

Okay I need to go do other things. Like plan other fanfiction and update other things. Shit. I have too much to do and I'm getting tired.

ALRIGHT DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I WANT TO THANK MY FIRST THREE REVIEWERS, LIGHTSABOVE, HIDING IN THE SHADOW, AND KYKYXSTANDLER. YOU GUYS ROCK.

And for the 14 people who followed it after the first chapter. You guys rock, too.

Okay, review! PM me! Read!

Love you all!

Jess


	3. Chapter 3

For some reason, Calvin was expecting the boys to come to dinner that night. She had a hunch that Sherlock would be eager to pick her brain for more clues as to why she called herself Calvin.

She prepared extra dinner that night. She made lemon chicken with sides of mash potatoes and asparagus. Making an effort on her appearance, she curled her hair that day and wore a white button-down top and faded jean shorts. Casual, but she knew she looked good.

Not that she cared if either of them noticed, of course.

Sherlock's distinct knock sounded at the door right on when Calvin predicted it. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and went to answer the door.

"Hello, boys. I was expecting you." she said pleasantly, stepping aside to allow them entry.

"You've done your hair differently." Sherlock commented, stepping into the flat with disinterest. He took some time to stare around her apartment, looking for any distinguishing clues. He picked up a few pictures of Calvin and her friends.

"No photos of family." Sherlock continued, and then moved on to inspect the paintings that were hanging and those leaning against the walls, which hadn't been put up yet.

"I'm sorry." John said quickly as Sherlock perused Calvin's flat with a critical eye. She chuckled, shrugging.

"I expected nothing less. It's fine. Care to sit and wait for him?" she offered, motioning to her kitchen table where the food had already been set out. John sat across from her and she offered him lemonade or water.

"Abstract, no professional training." Sherlock called from the living room, referring to the paintings he was inspecting around her home.

"I hardly think art requires formal training." Calvin answered, smiling in the general direction of Sherlock's voice. He merely 'hump'd' in response, his footsteps still moving around the apartment slowly, inspecting every inch of her life on display.

"Ph.D in Psychology." Sherlock concluded with, glancing at the framed degree on her wall as he entered the kitchen from the living room. Calvin smiled, cocking her head as he sat down next to John at the table.

"I did mention that I was a psychology professor, didn't I?" she asked, taking the lid off of dinner. "Please, help yourself. There's plenty."

Sherlock eyed the food, but did not take any. "I don't eat when I'm on a case." he said cryptically, leaning back in his chair. "Slows my thinking."

Calvin raised an eyebrow. "I do remember you complaining about how bored you were last night, Mr. Holmes, because you did _not_ have a case." she countered, nibbling off the end of a piece of asparagus as John filled his plate. She noticed how Sherlock glanced over at him briefly, as if checking that he was, indeed, eating.

'_Interesting_.' Calvin thought.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "John and I aquired one this morning." he informed her, locking eyes with her.

"Oh?" Calvin said, still smiling in the way that oh-so irritated Sherlock. "Congratulations. I hope it quelled your trigger-finger for a while, Mr. Holmes."

_'How pleasantly... unpleasant she is._' Sherlock thought to himself, finally putting her manner into a satisfying descriptive set of words. She teased him, and words that could be taken as insults were not said as so. He still was not completely sure whether she meant to ridicule him or not.

The table was silent for a moment. "So. Did you find anything particularly revealing during your inspection of my flat, Detective Holmes?" Calvin asked, teasing.

"You are not close with any of your family. All of your pictures are with your friends." Sherlock told her.

"Very good. What else?" Calvin urged, excited to hear exactly how she came off to a person like Sherlock.

"I also know your real name." Sherlock said triumphantly, pointing his chin towards the degree hanging on the wall.

Calvin glanced over at the framed degree. "Oh, yes. I suppose you do." she said, still smiling as she leaned forward to balance her chin on her folded hands. "And I would congratulate you if that was what you were so interested in finding. Alas, it is not. You want to know why I go by the name 'Calvin', not what my legal name is. If you'd wanted to know my name you could have looked it up. The Internet is a powerful resource, after all."

John glanced over curiously, interested in what Calvin's real name was. But he glanced at the amused Calvin, then at the unamused Sherlock, and decided that it was best that he gave Calvin her privacy with that aspect of her life.

Though he _was _curious.

Calvin grinned wider. "Go on, deduce me. Why do I call myself Calvin?" she goaded, knowing that she was only succeeding in angering him. Sherlock was silent, unable to answer. He didn't like this woman. She was much too smug for his liking. _He_ was the one who was smug, able to read anybody's life like a book. Now she was deliberately hiding something from him. Something as simple and ordinary as a _name_. He, of course, knew her real name now, but that meant nothing to him. He wanted to know _why_ she didn't _use_ that name.

The silence continued, Sherlock and Calvin's eyes locked. The former's were stormy and intimidating to a lesser person, but Calvin held his gaze evenly as her blue eyes sparkled with amusement and mirth.

Only John jumped when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wretched it out and found a text from Lestrade waiting for him.

"They've found another body." he said to Sherlock, who was still holding Calvin's gaze. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Very well." Sherlock said, blinking and standing up abruptly. He left without another word.

"Uh, thank you for dinner, Calvin. It was delicious." John said earnestly, striding after his friend. Calvin leaned back in her chair, and waved.

"My pleasure, John. Thank you for coming." she said, voice taking on a completely different tone when speaking to the doctor.

"So, what's her name?" John couldn't help himself from asking Sherlock as they entered the cab they'd hailed.

"Doesn't matter." Sherlock dismissed, then told the cabbie their destination.

"You seem flustered." John commented with a smirk of his own. Sherlock rolled his eyes at him.

"Oh please, John." he snorted, crossing his arms. "It's a fluke. I've been sleeping too much lately, ruins my thinking. I'll find the answer as soon as we're done with this case."

"Ever think that it's somebody's personal business what they call themselves?" John asked. "Besides, why does it matter so much?"

"It doesn't matter! _She_ doesn't matter. She's just a stupid girl that likes this brief game of cat and mouse too much for her own good!" Sherlock exploded, rounding on his friend. John put his hands up and leaned back.

"Alright, alright, calm down, will you? For the love of God's she's gotten to you, hasn't she?" John said almost smugly. Sherlock huffed and turned back to stare straight ahead.

"She'll make a mistake sooner or later. I'll find the flaw, and then I'll understand why."

"I thought you said it doesn't matter." John pointed out.

OoOoOoOoOo

Monday came and there still wasn't an explanation why Calvin didn't use her real name. Yet, the Earth kept turning despite that fact, and it was the first day of work for Calvin. She ran into John on her way to the university.

"Good morning, Calvin." he said, following her out the door. They were both headed out for the day.

"Morning, John. How are you?" she asked raising her hand to hail a cab.

"Can't complain... although Sherlock's been driving me insane. Care to share a cab?"

"Sure we're you heading?" Calvin asked, climbing into the cab that came to stop by the curb after John. He was going to the store, which was on the way to work for Calvin. She glanced up at the window of 221B and saw Sherlock watching the cab as it drove away. She smiled up at him and he disappeared.

"Why is he driving you insane, John?" she finally asked, turning around to smile at him.

"This case. It's run cold and he's, well, he's blaming it on you. And he won't bloody shut up about it." John told her. Calvin grinned wider.

"What have I got to do with it?"

"Something about keeping him occupied with your intolerable need for attention, I don't know."

"_My _need for attention?" Calvin laughed, though it wasn't spiteful. "I don't remember asking him to take such an interest in my name, though I'm not complaining. His way of thinking is just so... _interesting_."

"He has this need to know everything..." John explained, shrugging. "But, yeah, he's unable to finish this case and it's driving him insane."

"Ah. Well, call me if you need any help, John. I think this is your stop." Calvin said as the cab slowed down. John got out his wallet to pay the cabbie for half the trip, but Calvin stopped him.

"I've got it. I'll see you later, John." she said as he protested, closing the door and alowing the cabbie to drive away towards her work. She met her class of fifty-seven and assigned them an 'intro to the class' quick one-page paper on what it means to be 'psychotic' or a 'psychopath'. She asked the class to introduce themselves, as she usually did, and they seemed startled by how familiar she was being with them.

"You may call me Calvin if you'd like, but only if you continue to respect me as your professor whilst doing so. I want you to be comfortable with me, but I also want you all to recognize that you are here to learn, not to ask me my dress size or my sexual preference. We clear?" she told them, drawing from past experience as a teacher and the inappropriate questions she had been asked. The kids mumbled their agreement.

"Good! Any questions besides the two aforementioned?" a young man raised his hand and Calvin called on him by name, which was Michael.

"Yeah, uh, you mentioned that 'Calvin' isn't your real name... so why do you use it?" he asked. "I mean, your real one is on the transcripts."

Calvin smiled. "That, dear, is a question that a certain man would pay a lot of money for the answer to." she said, eyes mischievious. "But, as it seems, that falls under the category of 'inappropriately personal' so I can't answer that. But just as you asked me to call you 'Mike' instead of 'Michael', I ask you to call me Calvin." The class seemed to accept that.

The rest of the class went by as normal, questions of her history as a professor and where she went to school came up.

"I want that little essay by Thursday, guys. We'll discuss your views on what it means to be a 'psycho'. Have a good few days. I will be in my office tomorrow for anything you guys need, as I will be for the rest of the semester."

The class filed out, and Calvin packed up her bag for the day. She hailed another cab and started the ride back home... when she noticed a bundle of police cars and a load of 'DO NOT CROSS' tape marking off an area in the street. She saw a familiar head of dark hair and smiled to herself.

"Stop right here, thanks." she said, handing the driver a note before stepping out of the cab towards the police barrier.

OoOoOoOoOo

Yay third chapter!

I really like writing this so far. It's getting me back in my groove of writing.

Gah, I'm really hungry. Somebody should make me food.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter thoroughly, as I did, and I hope that you continue reading me cause I love you and never want to lose you.

Okay I think the hunger is getting to me. Sorry, guys.

Alrighty! Don't forget to read, review, PM, WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO. I'll be here. And I will love any of that. A lot. Especially reviews, I love reviews to let me know how I'm doing.

Love you all!

Jess


	4. Chapter 4

_The class filed out, and Calvin packed up her bag for the day. She hailed another cab and started the ride back home... when she noticed a bundle of police cars and a load of 'DO NOT CROSS' tape marking off an area in the street. She saw a familiar head of dark hair and smiled to herself._

_"Stop right here, thanks." she said, handing the driver a note before stepping out of the cab towards the police barrier._

She hurried across the street to where the yellow tape started, trying to get John's attention to bring her over.

"Who are you, then?" a young female officer asked, walking up to Calvin from the other side of the tape. Calvin smiled at her.

"Calvin Baker, I'm a friend of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." she said, motioning towards them with her head. "Mind getting them for me?"

"A 'friend'? The freak doesn't have 'friends', hon." the woman snorted. "I'd run along if I were you, this is a closed police investigation. Not one for a delicate little thing like yourself."

Calvin's grin only grew wider at the condescending tone that the officer was using. "You're referring to Sherlock as 'the freak', I presume?" she asked, completely ignoring the officer's suggestion for her to leave. "That's not very nice. In fact, I believe that falls under the category of 'bullying'. Were you maybe bullied as a child, officer?"

"Alright, that's it. Lestrade, call someone to get this girl off the premises?" the woman called, and the man deemed 'Lestrade' turned to stare at her, as well as John. Sherlock, however, was crouched next to what seemed to be a body.

"Calvin!" John called, trotting over to where she was waiting. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing on my way home from work and saw you two and thought, hey, maybe I can see a body today." Calvin answered, glancing at Lestrade as he also approached her from behind John. "I do specialize in criminal psychology, after all."

"You know this girl?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, she lives in the flat below us." John explained. "She wants to help with the investigation."

"Yeah? Why?" Lestrade asked, narrowing his eyes at Calvin, who shot him a dazzling smile.

"My name is Calvin Baker and I'm a psychology professor. I've been working in the fields of psychology, especially criminal psychology, for almost a decade. It'd be a wonderful experience to be able to be on the scene... and I can possibly help."

Lestrade sighed and thought for a moment. "Fine. Let her in. We need all the help we can get at this point, what with six bodies within four days and no leads." he grumbled, nodding to the officer that had originally greeted her. Delighted, Calvin lifted the tape and followed John to the side of the dead woman Sherlock was thinking over.

"No connections to the other victims, John, other than... oh for God's sake why are you here?" Sherlock asked as he turned to speak to John.

Calvin waved. "I'm here to observe and also to help, Mr. Holmes. I hope that's alright with you." she said cheekily, and he rolled his eyes.

"I don't need any of your help. I require only the help of _professionals_ with backgrounds in topics of relevance." he told her.

Calvin raised an eyebrow. "And the psych of a murderer has nothing to do with solving cases, then?" she asked, turning her eyes at the body. The woman had been stabbed repeatedly. "Or the sociology of the situation of the murder?"

"You're a _teacher_, not a practicing psychologist nor sociologist." Sherlock sneered.

"Wonderful observation, Mr. Holmes, but unlike most professors I make a life out of what I study, it's not just a job to me. I've been exposed to the innerworkings of a human mind since I was a young girl, being born to, not one, but _two_ practicing psychiatrists who spent their lives analyzing me, my siblings, the people around them, and each other." Calvin said, crouching down to get a better look at the victim. "I'm not claiming to be an amazing analyst such as yourself, but I am _good_ at what I do."

The woman's body had been burned slightly after being stabbed at least six times. All of her hair was gone and it was her face that received the burns before the flame went out. The wounds were shallow, however, and concentrated to the middle of the torso. Two had simply bounced off the sternum on contact. They had two inches of unmarked skin between each of them.

"An amateur, and a desperate one at that." Calvin said, looking up at them. "A practiced killer would not have made the mistake of hitting the sternum when stabbing a victim, however this one did it not once, but _twice_. The stabbings are shallow and done in a quick succession with very little precision, as if the person were looking around for bystanders while killing her. The body is also only slightly charred, as if burned merely on an afterthought. Whoever did this probably left several clues behind, check the back alleys for anything."

She stood up, smiling at John, Sherlock, and Lestrade.

"Well said, and in a way that we can understand." Lestrade commented, glancing at Sherlock. "Oi, you two! Go down the alleys and check for any evidence, we're dealing with an amateur, here!" he called to a few officers, smiling at Calvin as he passed.

"What kind of fluid was used to burn the victim?" Sherlock asked, crossing his arms at her. Calvin cocked her head and shrugged.

"I don't know, Sherlock. I'll leave that kind of deduction to you, I'm just analyzing the murderer's habits. I'm no forensic anthropologist." she told him easily, smiling up at him.

He snorted. "There wasn't any. The killer just lit the body with flame, possibly a - "

"We found a lighter, Lestrade!" one of the two men who had gone into the alleys called as they trotted back to the scene of the crime.

"- a lighter or a match." Sherlock finished.

"Which supports my hypothesis that the killer was an amateur." Calvin pointed out with a grin. "Every _experienced_ killer knows to use a type of fluid to light up their victims, right?" John chuckled at this while Sherlock seemed unamused by her cheek.

Lestrade had the lighter in his gloved hands. "Barely used, brand new." he told the trio as they approached. "Dropped in the alleyway."

Sherlock snatched it away and inspected it. "Flakes of skin on the ignition. Used once." he said, handing it back. "I'll take a look at it back at Bart's. Come along, John."

Calvin wasn't surprised that he didn't invite her to come along. Smirking, she simply backed up and turned around to head home for herself.

"Hey, uh, Ms. Baker!" Lestrade's voice called after she ducked under the police tape. She turned around and saw him jogging up to meet her.

"Thanks for your help today. Feel free to come along with Sherlock on his cases if you feel like it. We could use an extra pair of hands that -"

"That _doesn't_ contaminate my crime scene!" an irritated male voice called as a dark-haired man passed them.

"Yes, thank you, Anderson." Lestrade yelled back. "I was going to say that can help us by - "

"_Not _being a pretentious prick to the rest of us who _aren't_ freaks?" the woman from before suggested, following after the man from before.

"Yes, that too, Donovan." he responded, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, we could use someone here that analyzes a scene solely for the criminal and not the crime as a whole. You were a big help today."

"Thanks, but I'm sure Sherlock could have done it just as well. Better than I did, most likely." Calvin said, waving a hand. "And I'm sorry I don't think you ever told me your name."

"Detective Inspector Lestrade." he said, shaking her hand. "Just call me Lestrade."

"Okay." Calvin agreed, turning to leave. "Have a good night, Lestrade. I don't think you'll see me very often, Sherlock doesn't seem to enjoy having me 'stealing his thunder', as it seems."

"Yeah, he's like that." Lestrade agreed, also turning to leave. "I'd say I hope to see you again soon, but that'd mean we probably have dead bodies to inspect."

Calvin laughed, putting up a hand to hail a cab. "I understand what you mean." she called, climbing into her cab. "Have a good night."

As soon as the cab drove off, she realized that it was not a normal London cab. She turned and a young woman was sitting on her phone, dressed professionally.

Calvin stared at her. "Hello." she said, her voice still pleasant but suspicious. "Who are you?"

"Hmmm... Lydia." the woman answered, only glancing up from what she was doing on her phone to look at Calvin for a second.

"You sure?" Calvin asked, and the woman smiled, shaking her head.

"No."

"Okay, then. Mind telling me where I'm going? I'm guessing it's not home... I never told the cabbie the address." Calvin said, and then woman merely smiled and nodded. Calvin glanced out the window, watching the city whizz by as they drove towards her predetermined destination.

When the cab stopped, 'Lydia' got out of the car and motioned with a quick flick of her head for Calvin to follow her. She did so warily, glancing around at unfamiliar surroundings with concern.

"It's a wonder you don't fall and crack your head on the pavement, climbing stairs with your eyes glued to your phone like that." Calvin commented as the woman led her up the stairs of what seemed to be an abandoned parking garage. The clicking of the keys on the iPhone was her only answer.

Calvin knew she'd reached her final destination when a man, leaning on a black umbrella, came into view on the third floor of the parking garage. Calvin's blue eyes swept over him quickly, trying to access anything about him before he spoke. But she found nothing to go off of, besides the fact that he wore a very expensive business suit indictated that he was wealthy and possibly had a government job.

"Ah, if it isn't Miss. D-"

"Calvin." the woman in question snapped before the name even slipped from the man's lips. He smiled.

"Apologies. Of course, Miss. _Calvin_ Baker. How lovely for you to be here today."

"Well it's not as if I had a choice. Who are you, then?" Calvin asked, crossing her arms and accessing the man from closer up with her usual self-assured smirk gone. She didn't like this man already, mostly because he almost used her real name. And because he basically kidnapped her. That, too.

"No one of importance." he answered with a smile.

"Oh, come now. Everyone's important. You must be, to have the gall to get me in a phony cab and drive me here with some strange woman who blatantly uses a fake name." Calvin said, though her voice had gone back to its usual flippant, teasing tone that she so loved to use. "I'd like to know yours."

"You seem to care a lot about names, Miss. Baker, when you don't even use your own." the man told her confidently, and Calvin blinked at the comment. She smiled, running a hand through the end of her dark hair.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Ah, but I do. In actuality, I know a lot about you, Miss. Baker. I make sure of that with anyone who is close to Sherlock Holmes."

"So this is about Sherlock. Interesting." Calvin murmured, looking down at the floor, then grinning up at him through her lashes. "But I certainly hope you mean close in proximity, Mr. Smith. Because as you may have noticed, Sherlock Holmes does not like me."

"Ah, yes. But that's honestly as close as Sherlock gets to, well, anybody. I tend to look past that, it's not uncommon." the man responded, shifting on his feet. "I want to know your connection to Sherlock Holmes."

Calvin rocked on her heels. "I've known him for two weeks, approximately, and he is overwhelmingly obsessed with deducing why I call myself Calvin." she told him. "It's interesting. I suppose that you've already uncovered my secret, have you?"

"Of course." the man said, smiling wider still. "Though that's not why I'm here. I have no interest in exposing your secret to Sherlock, he can find that out on his own if he is truly that interested. I'm here for a different purpose."

"Brotherly love?"

"Ah, you've figured me out already, have you?"

"The way you say his name gave you away, Mr. Holmes. I've studied or been exposed to psychology for my whole life. I recognize patterns, such as the way a sibling says the name of their brother or sister. It's different than any other family member, any other relationship." Calvin explained, feeling her body relax with the realization. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I've brought you here to ask if you plan to continue to associate with my brother, as it seems."

"That's entirely according to how long Sherlock can tolerate me, but yes. I plan to be associated with him as long as he'll allow. Why?"

"I'm prepared to offer you a large sum of money in exchange for information."

"About Sherlock?"

"Yes, about my brother."

"Why? Can't you just call him up? Visit him?"

"Not exactly."

"Ah, I understand." Calvin said cryptically, smiling at the other Holmes. "But I'm afraid I must decline. I already have much too much money to know what to do with, as it seems." Calvin started to turn back towards the woman who had brought her here. She was ready to leave.

"And what happens when Sherlock grows bored of you?"

Calvin stopped, turning back around. "You mean after he discovers my oh-so interesting secret?" she clarified, smiling. "Well, Mr. Holmes, my life doesn't exactly revolve around your brother."

"You are a rather strange woman, Miss. Baker." the older Holmes called after her as she headed down the stairs, 'Lydia' beginning to go after her.

"Thank you!" she called back, starting to descend the stairs. The man said nothing more after her, and she was led to the car after the woman, though it was a much more fancy car this time. Calvin glanced up at the third floor of the abandoned parking garage and could see Holmes still standing there, watching her as she climbed into the car.

Just like Sherlock had that afternoon.

Arriving at home, the driver already knowing where to go, she unlocked the door and headed inside the apartment complex that she had become so accustomed to in the past two weeks of living there.

Entering her flat, she quickly wrote Sherlock a note and tacked it to his door for him to find when he got home from St. Bart's later that night.

_Your brother is lovely._

_-CB_

OoOoOoOoOo

Yay fourth chapter! I enjoy writing Calvin the more I work on this, and I hope that you all like it as well. A lot happened in this chapter! Calvin met Lestrade and Donovan and Anderson and MYCROFT. Basically all the main characters.

Except Molly and Moriarty *DUNDUNDUN*

i am sooooooo excited for Moriarty's bits. I'll be moving on to the events of The Great Game soonish, after they solve this little case they're on right now. Calvin will find Moriarty's brain VERY interesting.

And then of course Irene Adler comes directly after. Oh Irene how I love thee.

OKAY. So. I'm going to sign off and go watch the Fall because I feel like I need to cry. Really hard. For an hour and a half. YAY.

Okay, thank you all for your reviews and keep them coming!

Jess


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up the next morning, Calvin decided to make eggs for breakfast. Standing by the stove with a spatula in hand, in only a pair of low-hanging sweats and a sports bra, she waited for her sunny-side up eggs to finish on the skillet.

She was alarmed as the door suddenly burst open and Sherlock strided in, her note from last night in his hand. She glanced down at her attire, but figured that it didn't matter. Sherlock didn't seem like the man to take any interest in the female body besides how it died.

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes, care for some eggs?" she asked, smiling at him, now unperturbed by the intrusion. She expected that this would happen a lot if she continued her 'association' with him, as the older Mr. Holmes had so put it.

"What did Mycroft say to you?" he demanded, ignoring her offer. Calvin turned the stove down and turned to face him full.

"Is that his name? I figured out that he was your brother but he never mentioned his name." she mused, leaning her cheek on her hand. "And he offered me money to give him information on you. I didn't take it, before you ask."

Sherlock relaxed visibly, and Calvin turned away to transfer her breakfast onto a plate for herself. "You should have taken it. We could have split the spoils." he said, losing interest in the topic by the second. Calvin shrugged.

"I don't need anymore money than I already have." she said, sitting down and sprinkling salt on her eggs. She glanced up at him. "Why? Do you need the money, Mr. Holmes? I'd be more than happy to give you some, I have too much for my liking."

Sherlock snorted, looking away. "No, that's not necessary." he mumbled, beginning to head back out of the flat.

"Wait, did you _just_ receive my note? It's ten in the morning." Calvin called after him. He stepped back into view.

"Yes, it was a late night at Bart's." he explained cryptically. "Moreso an early morning, as it seems."

Calvin smiled wryly. "Anything to report?" she asked, dipping a bit of toast into the yolk of the egg she was currently eating.

"Lestrade arrested the girl about an hour ago. I was able to identify her by the skin samples I collected, along with the piece of her hair found on the final victim's body." Sherlock told her, seeming to be boasting to Calvin a bit. She raised an eyebrow and grinned at him.

"Well you _are_ the brilliant one." she conceded, tucking her legs up to sit cross-legged at her table while she ate her breakfast. "What was the reason for the murders?"

"Long-held grudges. The victims were all the old primary school teachers of the girl, who hadn't seen them for ten years. Upon questioning, she revealed that she thought the teachers responsible for her failure at uni, which led to a plethora of other problems in her life in the years to come. So she killed them. That was the only link between them, that they had all worked at that same primary school together." he explained, crossing his arms.

"Very interesting. Good job, Mr. Holmes." she praised, leaning back in her chair. "So, have you figured out _my_ little secret, yet? Your brother has." Sherlock's eyes narrowed at her while she simply smirked back.

"What game are you playing at, Miss. Baker?" he demanded, not worrying about being 'rude' because John was not present.

Calvin's eyebrows shot up. "'Game'? I'm not playing any game, Mr. Holmes. I simply asked you a question." she said innocently that, at the same time, was not so innocent. Her eyes glinted at him in a manner that suggested that she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

"If this wasn't a game, you would not be so keen to remind me of when it is my turn." Sherlock told her, taking a few steps closer to the table that she was sitting at, her body completely relaxed. She tilted her head to smile directly up at him.

"How poetic." she commented, placing her elbow on the table and leaning her head against her hand as she continued to lock eyes with him. "I am simply curious, is all."

"Curious of what?"

"If you can do it." Calvin said, shrugging. Sherlock was silent, staring her down with his intense eyes. Calvin held his gaze easily.

"What do you intend to find in my eyes, Sherlock?" she asked, amused by his behavior. "They hold no secrets of worth to you." He was silent still, and Calvin tsked as she stood up, coming into very close proximity to the detective. He did not make any move to step away from her, however.

"You're a very strange woman, Miss. Baker." Sherlock told her, scrutinizing her mercilessly with his eyes. She turned around, grinning.

"That's exactly what your brother said to me last night." she told him, walking through the kitchen to her bedroom. "How alike you are."

OoOoOoOoOo

Calvin sat at her desk at the university, writing out future lesson plans with music playing in the background.

Because it was the beginning of the semester, she had no visitors. Office hours were used so that any students could come and request help if they needed to. But there was one assignment so far and it was an opinion piece.

In conclusion, today was a pointless day at the office. Calvin was growing bored by the white walls surrounding her, and the music was only helping her slightly.

Her phone buzzed by her hand on her desk, and she picked it up. It was a call from a number she didn't recognize.

"Hello?" she answered somewhat warily.

"Hey, uh, Calvin. It's John."

"Oh, hi, John. What's up? And how'd you get my number?" Calvin asked, amused.

"Sherlock had it..." John explained, and Calvin laughed. Of course he did. She hadn't given it to him, but he must have taken her advice and used the Internet to find out more about her.

"But that's... that's not the point right now. Listen, Lestrade is asking for you specifically." John explained, and Calvin raised an eyebrow, although he couldn't possibly see it.

"Oh? Why?"

"The case that we closed? Yeah, apparently we didn't catch the real murderer. The girl he arrested was a set-up."

"So he's asking for me." Calvin finished, pursing her lips in thought. "Why on earth would he ask for me? He has Sherlock. I'm no person of consequence, I just accessed _one_ crime scene. And apparently my help led to a fraud."

"I don't know, he thinks we need all the help we can get." John grumbled. Calvin could hear Sherlock's voice in the background, angrily yelling at someone named Anderson.

"Listen, could you just come up here?"

Calvin smiled. "John, I _do_ have a job that I am currently working..." she said, though she was doing it more to tease him than out of true worry. It was her office day, she could handle not being there. It wasn't as if she were teaching a class.

"I know, and I'm sorry." John said apologetically, and then she heard him shout something to Sherlock. "We're heading to St. Bart's if you can make it. Sherlock can you just - !" And with that, the line cut off. Calvin grinned at her luck. Something interesting was happening. She quickly packed up her things and headed to the street to hail a cab.

_I'm here. Come get me. _

_CB_

Was the text she sent to John's number once she stepped out of the cab. He appeared in a minute, leading her into the morgue to where Sherlock was sitting near a body. A woman with brown hair was standing next to him nervously.

"I don't understand, John! Her _skin_ was on the lighter. Her _skin_. There was no possible way that she couldn't have used that lighter. She even _confessed_." Sherlock said as John's footsteps approached him. He turned and spotted Calvin with distain.

"Oh good, _she's_ here." he grumbled, standing up and pacing the room. "Going to help again, are you? Lead us to another planted suspect?"

Calvin cocked her head. "I never claimed to be of your caliber, Sherlock." she told him, and then turned her head to smile at the woman standing a bit off.

"Who's this, Sherlock?" Calvin asked pointedly, as if she was suggesting something more than she was asked. Sherlock waved his hand dismissively.

"Molly." he answered irritably. Calvin grinned and stepped forward to shake the newly christened 'Molly's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm Calvin Baker." she said pleasantly.

"Uh, C-Calvin?" Molly questioned, obviously asking the same question that Sherlock had been asking himself for two weeks. Calvin nodded.

"It's the name I prefer to be addressed by. I'm aware that it's a man's name." she informed her and Molly nodded quickly. Calvin turned her attention to the body. It was a man this time, and he had been shot three times. Once in the head, twice in the jaw. Another seemingly amateur mistake.

"Are all the bodies like this? With mistakes?" Calvin asked, turning towards Sherlock.

"Yes, yes, amateur mistakes on all of them. Sternum stabbings, misfires, not using fluid to catch a body of fire. All that." he answered dismissively. "As you said, we're dealing with an amateur."

"Or maybe a very, _very _experienced killer that wants to seem like he's an amateur..." Calvin suggested, running a hand through her dark hair and humming to herself. "Dear me, I seem to have gotten it very wrong."

Sherlock glowered down at her. "You got it _wrong_." he growled, and Calvin turned to look up at him.

"I hadn't seen the other bodies." she reminded him, feeling guilty. She felt very responsible for the death of this man. "I'm sorry."

"Apologies are worthless." Sherlock snapped, running a hand through his own dark hair, mirroring Calvin's habit.

"I wasn't apologizing to _you_." Calvin interrupted him. She glanced down at the body that she was currently sitting near.

Sherlock looked at her incredulously. "You're apologizing... to a _dead_ man?"

"Well, yeah." Calvin answered, glancing up at him. "What, were you expecting the apology? I'd imagine not since you find them so _worthless_."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing further. John cleared his throat behind them. "Well. At least we know what we're dealing with now."

"Oh please, John. She was wrong before, I hardly think she's gotten it this time."

"Then give us a better explanation, Mr. Holmes." Calvin told him, swiveling in her chair away from the body and facing him. Her face was still amused by him, but Sherlock detected a hardness in her eyes. Ah. So her weakness was bruising her pride.

"Oh I intend to." Sherlock informed her haughtily, striding out of the room. Calvin's eyes returned to normal, glinting with mirth after him. Molly was standing awkwardly off to the side.

"Well, uh, I'll just... close up for the night..." she said, zipping up the body bag and wheeling it back to it's case. Calvin stood up and walked out alongside John.

"Any idea where he went?" John asked as they hailed a cab to take them home. Calvin shrugged.

"No clue." she told him, climbing into the cab after him. "Besides, I'm no good at this detective stuff, remember?"

"You're better than I am." John told her, leaning back in his seat next to her. He smiled in that tired way that made him seem older than he was. Calvin grinned back, saying nothing more.

OoOoOoOoOo

Whoooooo sorry this chapter is late but Titanic was on and I was too busy sobbing my eyes out to write anything of value. And I had to work earlier so yeah.

Sooo I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I again would like to thank ya'lls for all the favorites/follows/reviews! They really brighten my day!

K I'm going to bed. I'm tired. Good night! Don't forget to review and let me know how I'm doing.

Jess


	6. Chapter 6

Calvin was awoken in the middle of the night by music. And not just any music, Calvin regarded it as some of the most beautiful violin music she had ever heard. And it was coming from 221B, above her. She pressed a hand to her forehead and felt a sleepy smile form on her lips. She squinted against the light of her phone as she checked the time. It was 4:52 am.

Nonetheless, Calvin threw the covers off to go upstairs and investigate the music. She pulled on a sweatshirt that went almost to her knees because of stretching and wear, hiding her small shorts. She crossed her arms and headed up the stairs to 221B.

Calvin wasn't surprised to find the door open, and she walked slowly into the flat to see Sherlock staring out the window, violin in hand. She wasn't sure if he knew she was there.

She stared at him curiously, face void of the usual amusement it held. Her eyebrows knitted together and her lips were slightly apart as she watched him play. It was like a dance, his body moving with the bow. His whole body was the instrument.

He turned from the window, but his eyes were closed. Calvin realized that he had no idea she was present. She decided to keep it that way, as she enjoyed being able to see him in his element. She found it so very interesting to see him without his walls down.

He continued to play as he took a few more steps around the room, eyes still closed as he focused on the music. Calvin was almost mesmerized by the movements of his body.

His eyes opened and locked with hers. The music didn't stop for a few more moments... before his brain fully processed what it meant that she was there. Suddenly, his bow dropped from the strings and his eyes turned guarded.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, setting the instrument down in its case on the desk. Calvin blinked before her normal smile graced her lips.

"You woke me up. You're very talented." she said from her place leaning against the wall.

Sherlock ignored the compliment. "Do you ever knock?" he asked, and Calvin wondered if he was embarrassed by the fact that she had seen him in such a different state. She wasn't sure if she could deem it a 'vulnerable' state, as Sherlock was never vulnerable. But maybe he considered it so. Or maybe he was embarrassed he didn't detect her sooner. Perhaps it was both.

"The door was open." Calvin said, shrugging. "Besides, I didn't want to interrupt you. Why are you playing so early?"

"It helps me think."

"Oh? At five in the morning? I'm sure John is thrilled by this habit." Calvin said slyly, swinging her arms behind her back and leaning on them. Sherlock snorted in irritation, and Calvin took a few steps closer to him. She was truly interested in this talent of his.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, sitting down in one of the armchairs. He seemed irritated that she wasn't leaving automatically.

"The case, what else?"

"Perhaps my name, if I were to be completely conceited." Calvin teased, leaning back in the chair as she crossed her legs.

Sherlock scoffed. "The case is more important than the game you insist on playing." he told her, and Calvin supposed that she should be insulted by his tone, but she just found herself grinning wider. Nothing he said to her could possibly hurt her.

"Maybe I don't even have a reason." Calvin mused aloud, and Sherlock turned to stare at her. "Maybe I just like the name Calvin rather than my given name. Who knows."

Sherlock studied her for a moment. "I would know if that was the reason." he dismissed easily, crossing his arms. "You would have simply changed your name to 'Calvin' rather than simply asking others to address you as such. There is a specific reason."

Calvin cocked her head and tugged at the end of her dark hair. She 'hmm'd to herself, saying nothing else, but her eyes stayed locked on Sherlock's. He seemed to be trying to deduce something from her, but he didn't seem to be able to find what he was looking for.

"Would you play for me?" Calvin asked quietly, and Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together at the question. He seemed ready to refuse, when Calvin uittered another quiet syllable, "Please."

He was silent for a moment, before slowly reaching down and picking his violin back up, balancing it on his shoulder once more. He watched her curiously as his fingers and bow moved in tandem, knowing exactly what tune to play without much direct thought from the musician.

Calvin's eyes closed as she focused on the music, but Sherlock's stayed open this time. He surveyed the woman at his leisure, as she could not meet him with her infuriating gaze. She looked at peace, and as if she were truly enjoying what he was playing. It honestly surprised him that she was not angry to be awoken at such an hour by his violin. In fact, she'd seemed delighted by the talent she'd discovered.

Sherlock allowed himself to become immersed in his music once more, his thoughts directed to the case with its' tune. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when his eyes opened once more the sun was shining brightly through the windows and Calvin was asleep in the chair.

He put his violin back down and collapsed in the chair opposite of Calvin, watching her again. Her face was completely innocent. He couldn't say that it was 'unguarded' now, because her face was never guarded. Any walls that she had were cleverly disguised as teasing and mirth. Sherlock had no idea what to make of the woman in his chair.

"Morning." John's voice murmured from behind him. Sherlock murmured a similar greeting back without turning to look at him.

John took a few more steps and stopped. "Is that a woman in the chair?" he asked, unable to see Calvin's face from his angle.

"Not _a_ woman, _the_ woman. Calvin." Sherlock told him.

"Oh." John said, turning to go into the kitchen to make the morning tea. It was around eight in the morning. "And why is she in our chair, then?"

"She fell asleep there, John, for _god's_ sake."

"Yeah I get that. But why?"

"She heard me playing last night, came up to bother me, then insisted that I play for her. She fell asleep." Sherlock explained in a more bored tone, as if the encounter last night did not intrigue him as it did. John accepted the explanation and set the kettle to boil.

"What time does she have work?" John asked, debating whether he should wake her up or not.

"She mentioned that her Wednesday class is at 11am once last week." Sherlock mumbled, his face looking far-off now.

John didn't answer and went to see to the kettle as it whistled. Calvin was startled out of her sleep by the high-pitched sound and her head popped up from against her arm. She looked as disheveled as a teenager as she pushed her hair back from her face and looked around, barely coherent.

Her eyes zeroed in on Sherlock and she remembered. "Good morning, Sherlock." she said as her mind and body began waking up rapidly. She turned and her eyes fell on John. "Good morning, John."

"'Morning, Calvin. Tea?" John asked from the kitchen, pulling cups from the cabinet. She nodded and yawned, and he poured a third cup for her. "Anything in it?"

"Black." Sherlock answered before Calvin could even collect her thoughts. She cocked her head at him and smiled.

"My, I'd be flattered by you remembering my preference but I know you'd simply be irritated with me." Calvin teased, accepting the cup of tea from John and taking a long sip. Sherlock scoffed and Calvin smiled into her cup of tea.

"Any leads on the case since yesterday, then?" Calvin asked, breaking the silence of the room. John shook his head.

"None. I think you're right, the murderer is experienced. He covers his tracks well." John answered, and then trotted down the stairs to retrieve the morning paper to read.

"It's a serial killer. They always make one mistake." Sherlock called, not even looking up. He was staring at a crack in the floor, presumably lost in his thoughts about the case Calvin and John were currently discussing out loud.

"Are we sure it's _one_ person, though?" Calvin asked, looking at Sherlock now.

"The victims all had the same kind of 'mistakes' on them." John offered.

"That doesn't necessarily mea that it's the same person every time. Perhaps it's their orders to make the same type of mistakes..." Calvin mused, her eyes turning to the ceiling with thought.

Sherlock shook his head. "No it is one person..." he murmured. "But they are all so unconnected. The most recent man did not work at the school with the others. He was a lawyer... completely unconnected."

Calvin thought for a moment, but was unable to come up with anything of worth to contribute to the conversation concerning the case. She, as strange as it seemed to her, began to doubt herself. She had been wrong once. Calvin did not want to be wrong a second time in the same case.

The room was silent, though not uncomfortably so. "I have to get ready for my class." Calvin said after a bit, rising and setting her cup on the table. "Thank you, John. I'll see you later." With that, she headed down the stairs to her own flat. Mrs. Hudson had gone to the market earlier that morning.

Entering her flat, Calvin found herself face-to-face with a gun. Surprised but not fearful, she tilted her head to the side to see a man dressed in a fine suit and a fedora holding the gun.

"I get it." she exclaimed, delighted, into the barrel of the gun. "Oh that's _interesting_." The gun was fired.

OoOoOoOoOoO

CLIFFFFFFF HAAAAANGER HANGING FROM A CLIIIIIIFFFFFF. AND THAT'S WHY HE'S CALLED CLIFFHANGER.

Wow I am so sorry to have kept you waiting so long for a shitty chapter, guys. I was really busy and tired the past few days. But I MADE MYSELF stay up to finally finish this chapter. Cause that's how determined I was.

So next chapter we find out what happens to Calvin AND the case is solved. Finally. And then we move on to the events of The Great Game. O shit. Moriarty. I fucking LOOOOOVE Moriarty. Though Calvin won't be very invested in the plot of that case... as of yet. I haven't really planned it out all that well.

Okay I'm like exhausted. New chapter tomorrow most likely. Good night, ya'll! Love you! Don't forget to review and let me know how I'm doing!

Jess


	7. Chapter 7

_Entering her flat, Calvin found herself face-to-face with a gun. Surprised but not fearful, she tilted her head to the side to see a man dressed in a fine suit and a fedora holding the gun._

_"I get it." she exclaimed, delighted, into the barrel of the gun. "Oh that's interesting." The gun was fired._

But, as the recent murders frequently went, this wasn't a killing blow. This man's hand snapped to the right, and the bullet went through her shoulder. Calvin gasped in pain, her hand flying to the wound. She supposed she should feel frightened for her life, but the bounding of feet from 221B made her smile.

The man moved the gun up to her neck, the progress suggesting that the killing blow would be to her head. Calvin weaved to the right to dodge the next bullet, and it embedded itself in the wall behind her. Her back slammed against the kitchen counter, the corner digging into her back with the force of her dodge. Calvin grinned at the attacker, who seemed unnerved by her lack of screaming and crying.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as the attacker's eyes took on the fear that Calvin lacked. Orders to make it look like an amateur or no, this woman was too dangerously calm to be left alive any longer. The gun was aimed between her eyes, and Calvin had no where to go.

_Click_.

Calvin's eyes opened and she cocked her head at the gun still pointed at her. The gun had jammed. She straightened up, the pounding of the boys' feet down the stairs echoing through her apartment. The man was frozen in place.

She gripped the gun, twisting around to yank it from his hand. She turned on her heel, and with the force of her swivel she slammed the handle of the gun into the man's face, incapacitating him instantly. Blood spurted forth.

"Nine pounds of force is all you need to break a nose." Calvin informed him cheerily, unloading the gun and dropping the ammunition to the floor. Sherlock and John bounded into the apartment to find Calvin bleeding from the shoulder and a man bleeding on her floor.

"Oh my God are you okay?" John asked instantly, rushing to her side to inspect the wound that was currently soaking the shoulder of her grey hoodie with red. Sherlock went to the man on the floor, pulling his hands away from his bruised and bloodied face to inspect him.

"I have a hole in my shoulder, John, not in my head." Calvin dismissed easily, though she grimaced as she adjusted her shoulder. John rolled his eyes at her.

"Take off your sweatshirt, let me see." he commanded, and Calvin sighed as he helped her pull the ruined material over her head. He was only momentarily stunned that she was in a mere bra and shorts, but soon shook his head and looked at the wound.

"Okay you need to go to a hospital." John told her, taking the sweatshirt and pressing it into the wound to help staunch the bleeding. "Sherlock, are you coming?"

"No." Sherlock told him, texting someone on his phone. "Lestrade will be here soon."

"I know the connection, Sherlock." Calvin called as John forced her down the hall. Sherlock's head popped up and he immediately strode after them.

"What is it?" he demanded, putting a hand up to hail them a cab.

"We were all on the same tube at the same time." Calvin answered simply as she was put into the cab with John. Sherlock got in after them, finding this information more important than whatever he had been doing beforehand.

"So?"

"So, we all saw something that we shouldn't have." Calvin continued, hissing in displeasure as John adjusted the material on her shoulder.

"And that is?"

Calvin grinned at Sherlock. "I don't know." she admitted. "All I know is that the ass in my flat that tried to kill me with a cheap gun - insulting, really - was on the tube with me that night, along with six or seven others in the same outfit. The teachers were all in the same car as we were, they were headed for work that morning. It was early, so there weren't that many other people. Only a few business women and one or two college students."

"When was this?" Sherlock demanded, thrilled that there was a lead now.

Calvin thought for a moment. "A month ago, maybe?" Sherlock nodded, then yelled for the cabbie to pull over. He lept out of the cab and went galavanting down the street. He obviously thought of something that he wasn't sharing with the other two.

They all stared after him before Watson looked back at the befuddled cabbie. "Well, get a move on! There is a bleeding girl in your cab, idiot!" he yelled, shutting the door as the cab pealed away from the curb.

By the time that they got to the hospital, the bleeding had slowed significantly, but it still hurt a lot. Calvin insisted on walking on her own into the ER, however. John jumped to the front and told the desk that he had someone who had been shot. Two nurses almost immediately appeared to aid Calvin.

"John, come with me!" Calvin called as she was put into a wheelchair against her will and wheeled down the hallway.

"Wait, sir!" the lady at the front desk called. "I need the name. For the computer."

"Uh, Calvin Baker...?" John said, unable to answer completely truthfully. He didn't know her true first name.

"The woman's name, sir."

"That is her name!" John snapped, looking down the hallway as Calvin got further and further away. "Or... that's what she's called. I don't her 'real' first name... exactly." The woman looked at him skeptically and he shrugged and raced down the hallway after her. They put her into an operating room.

"I'm not in _shock_." John heard Calvin exclaim, exasperated at the thought. He couldn't help but smile, she sounded a lot like Sherlock did. "Oh good, John's here. Would you please explain to them that I am not in shock?"

John glanced at the nurses fawning over Calvin. "She's not in shock. She just needs the bullet taken out and the wound stitched." he explained. One of the two nurses went off to find a doctor to do the procedure. Calvin was holding a large bandage to her shoulder with her good arm.

The remaining nurse was sitting at the computer and was typing in profile information on Calvin. "I need your name, age, weight, height, and blood type." she told Calvin.

Calvin said all the needed information in a flurry. "And my name is... Calvin Baker." she said nonchalently, hoping that the nurse didn't question it.

"Is that the name on your birth certificate, miss?"

Calvin looked down, not wanting to answer. She glanced at John, then back at the nurse. She mumbled her name.

"Excuse me?"

Calvin huffed, tossing her hair behind her shoulders. "Diana. Baker." she ground out, ashamed. The nurse was satisfied, typing in a few more profile things into the computer before standing up.

"The doctor will be right in." the nurse said, striding out. Calvin huffed again, lifting her bandages slightly and checking the bleeding and trying to ignore the fact that John now knew her real name. Sherlock knew it already, of course, but he didn't care. She hoped that John would just... forget what he heard.

"John, what time is it?" she asked suddenly. He pulled out his phone and checked it.

"Almost eleven."

Calvin frowned. "Do me a favor and call the university. I don't think I'll be able to be there today... having a bullet lodged in my shoulder and all." she told him, then reciting the number for him slowly from memory.

OoOoOoOoOo

After another hour of the doctor dislodging the bullet in Calvin's shoulder, she was free to go. John had called her university and the class was cancelled. She assured them that she'd be there the next day for her class, however, though John advised against it.

"You need to rest for a day or two," he insisted, Calvin rolling her eyes. "You lost a lot of blood and you could be traumatized."

Calvin laughed as the two got into a cab to head back to the flat. "Me? Traumatized? Please." she said, shaking her head. "I like playing mind games with Sherlock Holmes, a man several hundred times more intelligent than I am. It takes a lot more than getting shot to traumatize me."

John couldn't help but chuckle. "I do want you to stay in the flat tonight, though. Actually, I want you to stay until we solve the case. The only reason that you're alive might be because you were with us this morning, not in your bed asleep... _alone_."

"Sherlock won't be happy." Calvin reminded him, stepping out of the cab as they arrived at 221B. "He doesn't like me."

"Sherlock doesn't anybody." John told her easily, holding the door for her as they entered the complex.

Calvin raised an eyebrow at him. "He likes _you_." she said slyly, obviously insinuating that there was more to the relationship between the doctor and the detective.

"I'm not gay, for Christ's sake!" John exclaimed, exasperated. Calvin giggled, heading for her apartment. "Where are you going?"

"To get some of my things to bring upstairs, is that alright with you?" Calvin teased, opening the door.

"What if another of those... guys are in there? Let me come with you." John insisted, stepping towards the dark haired woman. She shook her head, amused.

"I'll be fine. I broke the last guy's nose." she reminded him, winking at him as she disappeared into the darkness of her flat, flicking on the kitchen light.

"Yeah I saw that." John mumbled, leaning against the frame of the stairs. "How did you do that? Training? Military? Martial arts?"

Calvin came back out with an armfull of her belonging, unable to carry anything with her hurt shoulder. John grabbed most of it out of her hands and headed up the stairs. She started to protest, but it caught in her throat. There was no point.

She laughed sheepishly at his question. "Uh, no. Not exactly..." she said, following him up the stairs. He glanced at her questioningly. "I saw it in a movie, decided to try it out."

John laughed outright, setting her things on the table and couch. "I'm impressed." he said, collapsing on the armchair as Calvin sat on the couch. "So... your name is Di-"

"No." Calvin interrupted him, narrowing her eyes. She looked away and pulled out her laptop and began to type out an apology email to her students and to her administration. John accepted the refusal to elaborate on her name, and picked up the newspaper that he hadn't had time to read earlier that morning.

OoOoOoOo

Ugh kind of a sucky chapter. But you find out her name! YAY! NEXT chapter the case WILL be solved and we'll be closer to SENOR MORIARTY. WHOOOOO. You have no idea how much I loovee him.

Also, a very interesting scene will happen. I won't elaborate on what interesting in this case means, however. No romance, of course. That's going to be pretty slow-going because... I mean... It's Sherlock. But it will EVENTUALLY happen. Eventually. That means not soon. I hope you don't hate me for that but guess what? Sherlock doesn't really _do_ relationships. Neither does Calvin.

OKAY I NEED TO GO WRITE OTHER THINGS AND GO ON TUMBLR.

Thank you SOOOOO much for your continued support! That means reviews, favorites, and alerts! You guys flatter me so much. I'm nawt that great. I'd like to send an extra-special shout-out to _**KittyNyan2012**_ because her review left me with the warm fuzzies. Hehe!

OTAY. Don't forget to review and let me know how I'm doing anddddddd have a fabulous night! Love ya'lls!

Jess


	8. Chapter 8

Calvin and John were alone for most of the day. They had plenty of conversation, but they both also enjoyed the silence in between. Well... Calvin did. John seemed slightly more uncomfortable than she was.

"Care for some dinner?" Calvin asked suddenly. The sun had long since gone down and there was still no sign of Sherlock. John's head popped up from behind his laptop.

"Uh, dinner? Like a date?"

"No, John. Why, are you asking for one?" Calvin said slyly, chuckling as she stood up and hopped over to where he was sitting at his desk. "I'm hungry, you're hungry. Let's go eat."

"How do you know I'm hungry?" John asked, standing up to follow her down the stairs. She turned to look over her shoulder and grin at him.

"I notice things once in a while." she stated as she climbed into their cab, refusing John's help. "Not often. But I have noticed that you don't mention when you're hungry."

John shrugged. "I guess, but it's mostly because I don't really notice when I'm hungry." he answered. He turned to see Calvin staring at him with an amused look on her face. She was giving him a similar look as Sherlock would when he was trying to 'deduce' something.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"You find your own needs less important than Sherlock's." she stated, leaning her head back on the seat and staring at him with her amused blue eyes. "That's why you don't mention when you're hungry."

John blinked. "No, that's not it." he said, refuting her answer. She closed her eyes and gave him a wide grin. Nothing more was needed to be said. "Uh, where are we going, anyway?"

Calvin was silent for a moment, as if she didn't hear him. Then, her eyes popped back open. "Oh... Just a pretty little diner that my friend runs." she answered suddenly, straightening up and fiddling with her bandage under her t-shirt, as if she'd forgotten about it.

The cab stopped in front of the little diner, lit up against the night with its' interior lights. Calvin stepped out and took John by the arm, dragging him inside. "Here?" he asked indisbelief, but his protests died in his throat once he stepped inside.

From the outside it looked like a slightly run-down, late-night diner that was barely staying afloat. But that was what you were supposed to think. First impressions were funny things. The outside of something merely a sheath. The inside is what truly matters.

And matter it did. On the inside, your view automatically changed dramatically. The tables were made of fine wood and the walls covered in tasteful papering, with pictures of countless celebrities who had spent a dinner or two there.

"Little diner my ass..." John commented under his breath once he looked around the establishment. He suddenly felt very underdressed.

"Annabelle likes to be theatrical." Calvin explained quietly to John as they strode to the front for a table. "She's themed this place by the notion that one should 'Never judge a book by its cover.'"

She glanced at him, noticing that he felt uncomfortable. "Annabelle holds true to that. There is no dress code." she assured him, nudging him playfully with her hip. They approached the host's podium and Calvin gave her most blinding smile to the host standing there.

"Table for two, please." she said pleasantly. The host, however, gave her a disapproving look. One could say that he 'turned up his nose at them'.

"Do you have a reservation?" he asked, and Calvin cocked her head.

"Well, no, but I'm sure if you tell Annabelle Louise Marie Mansfield that Calvin Baker is here, she'll be very upset if I don't get a table." she continued equally as pleasantly as before, no spark of irritation evident in her eyes.

The host's eyes widened and he nodded as he scurried off to tell his manager that a VIP was present. They were immediately led to a table in the middle of the restaurant. Annabelle, sweeping in garbed in a black, sparkling gown, came at once to greet her friend from college.

"Calvin!" she exclaimed, and the woman in question had just taken a drink of water when she was pulled from her plush seating and wrapped up in a tight hug.

"Anna, you look wonderful." was all that Calvin could respond before Annabelle's green eyes zeroed in on John.

"Ohh~ is this your date?" she asked in a loud whisper that was meant for John to hear. Calvin was about to tell her 'no', but she kept going. "He's a cutie, he is! How long have you been dating? Is there a wedding in the future? You simply _must_ let me cater!"

"He's not my date, Anna." Calvin answered calmly, smiling at her friend. "This is John Watson, we're friends. I live in the flat below him."

"Why aren't you dating my Calvin? Isn't she pretty enough for you?" Annabelle demanded, shaking John's hand rather roughly. "You know, Calvin was the one who gave me my start-up loan for this place. Now I own restaurants like this _all_ over England. But, I like to stay here at my roots rather than travel around. I'm glad you answered my text to come and have dinner for once! You never come see me anymore."

John could barely keep up with Annabelle's rapid speech, but Calvin was doing just fine. She'd roomed with Annabelle during her university days, along with another girl and two men. They had all shared a flat not far from the university, and continued to live together for years and years after they all graduated.

Calvin laughed. "Anna, I moved out two weeks ago, if that." she reminded her friend easily.

Calvin was the first to move out from their shared home. They'd all found jobs right after college. Annabelle had majored in business, which led her to owning restaurants. She also originated a lot of the meals served at them, which were all themed on a life lesson she felt that everyone should learn. This one was, as aforementioned, 'never judge a book by its cover'.

One of the men majored in theatre and was now working on the West End. The other was a rather successful chef, and the third girl was a lawyer. Somehow, however, they all stayed together. Once they became successful in their respective jobs, they'd moved out of their first flat and moved in a rather large townhouse together. There they'd stayed for five or so years, a family, before Calvin decided it was time to live on her own.

So she moved to 221C Baker Street, her first home away from her family of over thirteen years. That's what Sherlock had deduced, though he was thinking biological family

Of course, John knew none of this, but Calvin had her suspicions that Sherlock had since figured a bit more out for himself.

"Yes, but we _miss_ you... and your funny little profiles of people. Come back and live with us." Anna pouted, looking rather silly doing so with full makeup and a gown on. Calvin grinned.

"I like Baker Street." Calvin said simply, and Annabelle only continued to pout before her face brightened up considerably as a waiter passed.

"I want the best steaks in the kitchen served to my friends." she told him cheerily. "Well, _au revoir_, if you'll pardon my French. I have to practice, I'm building a new restaurant in Paris. I'll be back to check on you~" With that, she strode off, and Calvin was free to sit down.

"I might have warned you first." Calvin said with a wide grin when she got a look at John's face. "She has ADHD and I know she's a bit over the top, but it's her way of dealing with it without medication." A bottle of wine was brought over to them. Calvin glanced up and saw Annabelle waving from the other side of the establishment. She couldn't help but grin.

"She's a good person." Calvin said simply, then added, "Although she knows I don't drink."

John nodded. "So you lived with her, then?"

"I lived with her and three other people for almost half of my life." Calvin answered carefully, ignoring the red wine for her water. She encourage John to have it, however.

"Ah, so that's who you consider your, uh, family." John concluded, remembering what she had said to Sherlock. Calvin blinked and smiled with her lips closed.

"Yes. Family is not who you are born to, but who you are born to be with." she answered quietly, staring down into her glass of water, a slightly dreamy look in her eyes. John didn't push the matter, realizing that it was her own personal business. Her head snapped up, as if she were clearing her mind of those thoughts.

"Anyway... tell me about you." she encouraged, driving the conversation away from her life. John obliged, telling her anything she wanted to know, though her mind was slightly distracted.

When they had finished, the two stood to say good-bye to Annabelle, which took twenty minutes, the two headed back home. Calvin was rather pleased with the night. She had gotten to know John a bit more and he, in turn, learned a fact about her life.

"So did you like dinner, John?" Calvin asked as they climbed the stairs heading up to 221B. He nodded.

"It was, well, amazing." he said honestly, and Calvin grinned, delighted that he enjoyed himself. "And Annabelle was very nice."

"Well she's single..." Calvin said teasingly, nudging him with her good elbow. She took the moment to realize that Annabelle didn't even notice that her shoulder was hurt.

John rolled his eyes. "I kind of have someone." he said sheepishly. Calvin raised an eyebrow. "Her name's Sarah."

"That's interesting." Calvin said with a glint in her eye. "Why 'kind of'?" Before John could answer, however, they entered the flat and found Sherlock pacing the room.

"Ah! John. Where were you?" he demanded immediately.

"Out to dinner with Calvin, since I had no idea where _you_ were all day." John answered.

"I texted you. Eight times."

"Well, I was at dinner!" the shorter man exclaimed, and Calvin chuckled to herself as she realized how much of a couple they sounded like. Sherlock's eyes zeroed in on her.

"Was it _really_ very safe for you to be out after you were targeted by a _gang_ member this morning?" he snapped at her as she collapsed in the armchair.

She raised an eyebrow up at him and grinned. "Oh, Sherlock, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were _worried_ about me." she said slyly, batting her eyelashes at him in a mocking way. He scoffed at her.

"_Please_. I just don't need another... _body_ lying about. Besides, it took Mrs. Hudson quite a while to fill that flat, and I will not have her efforts wasted." he answered.

"Or you couldn't stand me lying there dead without knowing my little secret." Calvin suggested, kicking her feet over the armrest of the chair. "Don't worry, Sherlock, I'll leave it in my will for you. Maybe." Her lips turned up in a smirk.

"Do sit like a grown-up." Sherlock snapped, and then grabbed his coat. "Come along, John. We have a case to close."

"What? At... twelve in the morning?" John demanded, Sherlock turned on his, exasperated.

"Of course, what else? I am _this close_ to finding the man, John."

"Sherlock, I am _tired_. We'll do it in the morning. I'm sure he'll still be killing then, at a _decent _hour of the day." John grumbled, waving Sherlock off. "Good night." He spared a smile for Calvin as he passed, however.

Calvin yawned, realizing that she was also tired. "Wow, getting shot really takes a lot out of you." she commented, smiling across the room at an unamused Sherlock. "Where shall I sleep, then?"

"Just take my bed. I won't be sleeping tonight." he answered nonchalently, waving his hand dismissively at her. She nodded, grabbing her bags from the floor next to the couch, and headed into Sherlock's room down the hall, where he had waved to.

"Good night, Sherlock." she called, but she was met with no answer besides a muffled 'hmph'. She smiled to herself.

The room was darkened, so she flipped the light on. She supposed she should find it strange to be sleeping in another man's bed, but this whole _relationship_ with Sherlock was strange in itself. Nothing seemed to alarm her in that way anymore, at least when it came to Mr. Holmes. She changed out of her jeans and t-shirt and put on comfortable clothes for bed.

She slipped in between his sheets, and she mused for a second that they smelled exactly like him, however strange that seemed. She was careful in her position, taking care to put no pressure on her injured side, and allowed sleep to wrap around her.

OoOoOoOoOo

A chapter with little Sherlock and more John, again. Well, that'll change a bit soon. I just enjoy John and Calvin's friendship. He's sassy and she's... aloof, I guess. And it's fun.

You also learned a good deal about Calvin's past in this chapter. Yay! You will meet all three of her other roommates as the story progresses, and they all have a big role in the plot. Collectively, anyway.

But John and Sherlock still don't know a lot about her past... but you guys do. Kind of. What's the word for that? There's some word for when the audience of a novel knows something that the characters don't... 50 points to whoever reviews and tells me cause now I NEED to know.

Okay so I'm tired, as always, and I shall take my leave from this A/N. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter! You gaiz flattered me even more in your reviews from last chapter. Garsh. /blushblushblush/

So don't forget to review and let me know what you think and how I'm doing so far! Thanks for all your continued support, like reviews/alerts/favorites! I love you all!

Jess


	9. Chapter 9

Calvin opened her eyes and squinted against the panel of light peeking through the unfamiliar curtains across from the bed. It was hitting her straight in the face. She groaned, instantly developing a headache, and rolled to the other side.

In doing so, however, she spotted a tall figure standing at the other side of the room. It was Sherlock.

"Why are you in here?" she asked sleepily, sitting up and pushing back her mussed hair from her face. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"This is my room." he said.

Calvin smiled as she began waking up more. "I understand that. But why are you in here _now_?" she clarified.

"One can learn a lot about a person by watching them sleep."

"You were watching me sleep?"

"Yes."

Calvin cocked her head, amused. "Why?" she asked, throwing the covers back and standing up to stretch. She heard the kettle whistling in the other room and knew that John was awake.

Sherlock snorted in irritation. "One can learn a lot about a person by watching them sleep." he repeated, following her as she walked out of the room and greeted John with a 'good morning'.

"You know it is somewhat frowned upon in society to watch a person sleep, right?" she asked, accepting the cup of tea that John held out to her. She smiled at John and sat cross-legged on the couch. "This isn't Twilight, you know."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. "It was entirely for research, I assure you."

"Ah. That makes me feel so much better." Calvin teased, sipping at her coffee. "I suppose you hoped to find the secret behind my name whilst I was unconscious?"

Sherlock didn't say anything.

Calvin chuckled. "Anything to report, detective?"

"You twitch frequently while you sleep and you wake up at least three times an hour. You're a nervous sleeper."

John scoffed. "Maybe that has something to do with her sleeping in a new place?" he suggested. "And were you _really_ watching her sleep? You understand how weird that is."

Sherlock ignored John's secondary commentary. "I notice that she goes to bed around five or six in the morning when staying in her own flat, staying up all night. She only sleeps when it is impossible for her body to stay awake." he answered.

Calvin smiled, setting her tea cup on the table. "That is true. But remember, Sherlock, I've only been living there for a few weeks. It is still rather new to me. Perhaps I still haven't settled in properly." she told him.

She stood up, rolling her shoulders before wincing. She had momentarily forgotten about her injury. Her hand flew to her wound and John stared at her, making sure that she was okay.

"And I've recently had my life threatened, being injured in the process. Your data from last night cannot be taken into account because of the added variables. Thank you for playing." Calvin smirked, arching her back to stretch out as she headed for the door. Sherlock blinked and glared at her back.

"Now if you'll excuse me, boys, I have a job to get ready for." Calvin smiled, waved and trotted down the stairs to get ready for work.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and glanced at John irritably. "Well, come on, for god's sake! We have to get to the Yard." he snapped, striding out the door, slamming it behind him before John had even moved.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Coming home from work, Calvin was alone. John and Sherlock were out solving the case and Mrs. Hudson was shopping. The complex was eerily quiet and Calvin's shoulder twitched, reminding her what happened last time she was alone in her flat. Of course, the boys had been upstairs then. Now, she was all alone.

It was a strange feeling for Calvin. She'd lived with four other people for most of her adult life, and with six other people when she'd been living with her biological parents. She wasn't accustomed to being alone. She didn't like it.

Calvin's body shook slightly, anxiety taking over, as she unlocked her door and stepped inside. It was the same as she remembered, except now she spotted the blood stains on her floor. She wasn't sure if it was the attacker's or her own staining the wood.

She decided to ignore it. Her eyes shifted around the apartment, turning on every light and checking every closet. She threw back her shower curtain and checked under her bed. There was no one in her flat.

Calvin sighed and turned on the TV, the background noise making it easier for her to calm down. She rubbed her shoulder nervously, remembering the pain of being shot.

Pulling out her pastels, she decided to start on a new canvas. She threw her dark hair up into a messy bun, wrapping her smock around her after she changed into painting clothes. At first, her strokes were messy, as her hand was shaking violently, but her anxiety soon melted into the background as her mind forgot her fear and started to focus only on the colors.

That's the reason she painted. Calvin had an anxiety disorder. Her mind was riddled with fear of possible outcomes and impossible situations that her mind concocted in the dark of the night.

She was embarrassed by her weakness, as it was exploited by her family when she was younger. As a young child, her parents, who were renowned psychiatrists, considered her weak for her jumpy tendencies and nervous habits.

In response to this, she created a cool exterior filled with teasing and evasion, to please her parents and make herself seem... normal. Or at least, make herself seem to fit the definition of normal that her parents and siblings had been comparing her to. So Calvin decided to hide herself, hide her disorders, and create a cool, collected, and slightly snarky version of herself in order to hide the scared little child inside of her from the rest of the world. Just as her parents and four siblings judged her harshly for her mental disorders, she so fears the world will, as well. Seeing nothing but distain for her disorders, she is terrified that if the world saw that scared little child, that she would be shamed like she was as a young child. Which was why she took no medication and sought no professional help; fear of exposure.

What had started as a childhood anxiety disorder had festered and transformed with her shame and as she hid it away, ignoring her need for the help that her parents would not supply. Calvin now had a general anxiety disorder, a panic disorder, and a slight separation anxiety disorder when it came to being alone. She had now had three disorders to mask, instead of just her childhood anxiety.

If she were an actress, she'd have a BAFTA.

This whole ordeal was why she moved to Baker Street, she felt -

BANG. The front door slammed and feet pounded up the stairs suddenly, snapping Calvin out of her thoughts. She jumped four feet into the air and felt her lungs constrict with the makings of a panic attack in progress. Her body trembled and shook as Calvin fought against it, willing herself to calm down as she dropped onto her knees painfully.

Nausea hit her like a train, and Calvin was now on her hands and knees. She breathed as steadily as she could, rocking back onto her heels and wrapping her arms around herself.

There she stayed for a long while. This attack was not her usual ones that she was able to control in a matter of minutes. The amount of stress that had been put on her over the last few days, all dealt with without incident, was crushing her from all sides. When she could finally stand from the dizziness, she collapsed on the couch, head in hands. _No one_ could see her like this. _No one_.

OoOoOoOoOo

Calvin, though still exhausted, could not sleep. It was late evening when she decided to start painting again, to finalize her calming down. She had to have her mask back in place before she was to see Sherlock or John again. Namely, Sherlock.

Sure, she enjoyed playing little games with him. It was fun, and kept the edge off, but she knew one day he would figure her whole life out. She would be an open book to him, and she would leave. Calvin regarded herself as _just_ clever enough to keep him at bay, but not even close to being clever enough to keep him in the dark forever. Or even keep him _interested_ forever.

Calvin shook those thoughts from her mind, taking on a calmer persona as she painted, glancing at the TV every so often to chuckle at the American television show that was on.

Gunshots went off in 221B, but it wasn't as shocking as it should have been. Calvin had successfully calmed herself down to the point of shutting down her anxiety for the time being, as she usually did in public and _especially_ around Sherlock. Her heartrate increased, but there was no tell-tale signs of her chest constricting that signaled another panic attack or the like.

She smirked up at the ceiling, amused by John's voice yelling, "What the _hell_ are you doing?" and Sherlock's replying, "Bored!" It was very similar to the first few days she had lived at 221C. Setting her paintbrush down, she took out her hair and headed up to the flat above her.

"You know, with the amount of time I spend up here, I should just live with you two." she commented with a grin as she found Sherlock on the couch and John standing by his desk, setting the gun down, away from the detective.

"Oh please." Sherlock scoffed, obviously in a very bad mood at the moment. Calvin cocked her head.

"How is he bored, John? You still have a case, don't you?" Calvin continued, stepping further into the flat. John shook his head.

"No, we caught the bastard earlier today. That's why we didn't come check on you earlier, sorry..." John said apologetically, and Calvin shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Anything to eat, I'm starved." He asked Sherlock, heading into the kitchen and opening the fridge before closing it with a quiet, 'Oh god.'

He reopened it and Calvin craned her neck to see, and spotted a severed head sitting in the fridge. She glanced at Sherlock in amusement, then back at John.

"Is that a head?" John called from the fridge.

"Just tea for me, thanks." Sherlock responded, his tone bored as ever.

"There's a _head in the fridge._"

"Ye-es."

"A _bloody head_!" John growled, striding back into the living room, exasperated.

"Where else was I supposed to put it?"

"As if it's normal to have a head in the first place..." Calvin commented, and John nodded vigorously, holding his hand to where Calvin was leaned against the wall.

"Exactly!" he exclaimed.

"Got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death... I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

"Yea-..., uh, yes."

"A Study in Pink... nice." Calvin smiled, glancing at John. She had already read his write-up of the case and found it fascinating.

"Well, you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink." John said, defneding the title. He cleared his throat. "Did you like it?"

Sherlock had opened a pamphlet and was reading it. "Umm, _no_." he answered distainfully and Calvin turned to look at him.

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered." John told him, slightly confused.

"_Flattered_?" Sherlock scoffed. "'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds, what's incredible, though, is how _spectacularly _ignorant he is about some things.'?" he recited accusingly. Calvin stifled a laugh and his green-blue eyes were on her immediately.

"Shut up." he snarled, and Calvin merely smirked at him in response.

"Now, hang on, I didn't mean-"

"Oh, you meant spectacularly ignorant in a _nice way_..." Sherlock interrupted, irritated. "Look. It doesn't matter to me who's... Prime Minister or who's sleeping with who..."

"Or that the Earth goes around the Sun..." John added, and Calvin once again had to stifle her laughter. This time, Sherlock ignored her.

"Oh not _that_ again. It's not important!" Sherlock exclaimed,

"Not important. It's _primary school_ stuff. _How_ can you not know that?" John responded, incredulous.

"Well if I ever did, I deleted it."

"Deleted it?"

Sherlock inhaled sharply and sat up. "Listen. This is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. _Really_ useful." he told John. "Ordinary people fill there heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get to the good stuff. Do you see?"

"Yes." Calvin answered, and when Sherlock looked at her, he seemed to appreciate her imput a tiny bit for once.

"But it's the _solar system_." John exclaimed, still not convinced. Sherlock groaned and put his face into his hands.

"How? What does that _matter_? So what if we go around the Sun or we go around the moon... or 'round and round the garden like a teddy bear'? It wouldn't make any difference." Sherlock growled at John, irritated beyond belief at his inability to _understand_. Calvin thought it was fascinating.

"All that matters to _me_ is the _work_. Without that, my brain rots." Sherlock continued, and snapped his head up. "Put that in your _blog_. Or, better yet, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." With that, he collapsed back on the couch and turned away from both John and Calvin.

John sat for a moment, then got up and went for his coat.

Sherlock looked up. "Where are you going?"

"Out." John answered, this time _he_ was the one irritated with the other. "I need some air."

Calvin glanced after him, and then back at Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson's voice sounded from the stairs, and she knocked before entering.

"Oh, so you two had a little 'domestic'?" Mrs. Hudson asked, walking in. "Oh, hello, dear. How are you this evening?" she asked when she spotted Calvin. Sherlock had gotten up and stepped over the table to look out the window.

"Just babysitting the boys." Calvin joked, and Mrs. Hudson chuckled as she made her way into the kitchen. Calvin pushed off from the wall and joined Sherlock watching John walk down the street. He didn't seem to notice her.

"It's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up more." Mrs. Hudson commented, placing a bag on the counter in the kitchen.

"Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful." he sighed. "Isn't it _hateful_?"

"Oh, I'm sure something new will turn up soon, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson told him. "A nice murder! That'll cheer you up!" She walked across the living room.

"Can't come too soon."

"Hey! What've you done to my _bloody_ wall?" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, noticing all of the bullet holes there. Sherlock smiled slightly and turned to look.

"I'm putting this on your rent, young man!" she declared, heading down the stairs. Sherlock sighed, and it was quiet for a moment before he suddenly seemed to notice Calvin standing next to him.

"What are you still doing here, then?" Sherlock demanded, glancing at Calvin. She turned to smile at him.

"Would you like me to leave?" she asked with a sly smile. "Don't want any_ alone time _with me, then?" Her voice was mockingly sultry and Sherlock was about to answer her snide remark with one of his own when an explosion sounded through the windows and they were both thrown to the floor.

OoOoOoOoOo

I hate writing off of script more than you hate reading it, I assure you. I didn't want to fuck with it too much, so Calvin was basically jsut observing Sherlock through it, but yeah it was pretty boring when I got away from Calvin's mental issues and into script. I apologize. For that reason, much of the scripted dialogue will not be written out and Calvin will be absent from established scenes.

So yeah this marks the start of The Great Game and A Study in Balgravia! Irene Adler and Moriarty to write. Fabulous I am SO EXCITED.

So what did you think of the side of Calvin that was revealed? She's actually an extremely vulnerable person, but she hides that half of herself. You know why she's evasive with Sherlock but you still don't know why she calls herself Calvin. And though I want to give my readers a more in-depth view of Calvin, while John and Sherlock are kept in the dark, you will not find out why she calls herself Calvin until Sherlock does. Sorry not sorry!

Ohkay god my hands hurt I'm sorry this is so late!

Dramatic irony, thank ya'll! 50 points to everyone!

Okay so thank you ALL who reads, reviews, and favorites. I adore all of you! Thanks so much!

Jess


	10. Chapter 10

More pain. Calvin felt something hot running down her back as she laid, motionless, on the floor of Sherlock's flat. She was just barely conscious, and wasn't sure if Sherlock was hurt or conscious. The thing was, she couldn't find the ability to open her eyes, as her mind was jumbled with pain and confusion.

She supposed that she should be having a panic attack at the moment, but the absence of full consciousness kept her anxiety issues at bay for the time being.

Calvin wasn't sure how long it was before she heard Sherlock groan and stir next to her. It took a bit more time until he noticed her laying on the ground. She listened as he slid over to her, cool fingers pressing against her pulse point at her neck. Satisfied that she was alive, his hands moved to pull up her shirt.

Becoming more conscious with him touching her, she groaned softly in protest. Why was he probing at her back? It hurt and was altogether much to hot, though his cool fingers _were_ helping.

"Are you awake?" his deep voice asked from somewhere still far away. Calvin's eyes flicked back and forth under her lids, signalling that she was indeed at least somewhat conscious. Sherlock went back to checking her body, Calvin focusing on the little pokes and prods that he was administering, and the pain that came along with it, in order to pull herself back into the real world. She felt as though she were submerged in a tank of Jell-O.

Her eyes finallu fluttered open and she moved her head slightly to watch Sherlock, who was still inspecting her back.

"Shot yesterday, blown up today..." Calvin commented, trailing off as she realized how much her head hurt.

Sherlock ignored her. "You have glass embedded in your back." he informed her. "Possibly a concussion, severe bruising, burst eardrums."

"I should stay away from you, Mr. Holmes... You're trouble." she answered, dazed and confused but becoming less so by the minute. She surveyed his injuries then, or rather, the lack thereof. He had been in the center of the two windows that had exploded, and hadn't been hit by any of the shattering glass. He looked a bit bruised, but otherwise was fine. The debris had pretty much missed him entirely.

She, on the otherhand, now had glass in her back, a terrible headache, and definitely more bruises than she could count. Her heart lept into her throat as she realized that she may have to go back to the hospital.

_That_ thought sent her heart on a rampage. She hated hospitals. Not so much for the needles or sickness or other normal reasons, but because being around so many doctors made her nervous beyond belief. Calvin felt that if she went to the hospital that they would find out that she had anxiety somehow. That was not an option.

"We need to take you to a hospital." Sherlock said, and Calvin's eyes immediately widened.

"No!" she snapped, sitting up sharply. As she did so, she felt more warmth running down her back. Reaching back, she came back with red-stained fingers. Blood. Fabulous.

"Are you stupid?" he demanded, picking her up swiftly and carrying her to the couch. He laid her on her stomach to keep her off the glass."You have _glass_ embedded in your _back_. You need the shards removed."

"I-I don't like hospitals." Calvin said truthfully, though she made her voice less desperate and more aloof, as she usually did with Sherlock. "Besides, two hospital visits in two days? They'll think I'm the victim of domestic abuse." She smirked at her morbid joke, but on the inside she was dreading his answer

Sherlock glared at her, and Calvin sat up again. "Call John, have him do it." she asked. Sherlock pushed her back down onto the couch gently, trying to keep her in a laying position on said couch, and picked up his phone.

Calvin watched as he dialed the number multiple times, to no avail. "His phone is off. We're going to the hospital." he made a move to pick her up and Calvin swatted his hands away.

"Why don't you just do it?" she suggested desperately, though her voice was still cool and collected. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm a consulting detective, not a doctor." he told her snidely.

"Please, you're probably better at it than they are." Calvin told him, smirking. At this point, she was stroking his ego. She knew that the moment that she stepped into the hospital, she would have a panic attack. She was just barely able to keep it at bay when she went for her shoulder, but now, with multiple injuries and even more stress buzzing in her mind... she knew she wouldn't be able to hold it together. And Sherlock would figure out her disorder and so would the hospital.

He stared at her. "Hospital." he insisted, reaching around her to pick her up bridal style once more.

"Please." she said strongly, though her voice cracked ever so slightly. It would have been imperceptible to a normal person, but to Sherlock... well, it was as if she were begging.

"Fine." he agreed after a moment's deliberation. He set her back down on the couch and went into the kitchen, arriving back with two kits. One was a standard first-aid kit, and it had John's last name written on it. The other was much less friendly looking, and it obviously belonged to Sherlock.

"I have nothing for your pain." he reminded her, insinuating that it would be very painful to have the shards removed without pain medication. Calvin smiled at him.

"Pain builds character." she told him.

He sighed, pulling out a pair of what seemed to be oversized tweezers from his bag. "They are neither overly large nor very deep, or you'd be in the hospital right now." he informed her, cleaning his tool with alcohol. "Take off your shirt." He said it in such a manner that made the request seem like nothing. And it was, it meant nothing in this circumstance, but it was still strange.

Calvin began to reach to the hem of her shirt to pull it off, when the movement made her back burn with pain, and also irritated her shoulder wound. "Cut it off." she told Sherlock steadily, not wanting to make a big deal about it.

Instantly, he obliged. He grabbed a pain of scissors from his desk and returned to cut the old fabric from her back. He set them on the table behind him, and began cleaning the areas that needed glass removed.

His fingers found her bra, unclasping it without so much as a warning. Calvin turned slightly, surprised, but he merely rolled his eyes at her.

"Oh for god's sake there's a piece just below the clasp. Calm down." he snapped at her, eyes only on her back as he continued cleaning the area. Calvin chuckled slightly, turning back around. There was also no warning when Sherlock began pulling the pieces from her skin. She ignored the fact that she was bare from the waist up and she was only wearing a pair of shorts below that, as Sherlock didn't seem to care in the least.

Calvin yelped as the first one was taken, but with a sharp look from Sherlock, she instantly quieted down for the rest of the procedure. There were a dozen or so shards in her back when she started. Now, her back burned as antiseptic was put onto her wounds, followed by gauze and bandages found in John's kit.

"Clean those daily, or you'll get infection. And that calls for _days_ in the hospital." Sherlock told her clearly, closing his bags. "You also may have a concussion. Don't sleep tonight. Mrs. Hudson!" He handed his outer robe to Calvin, not looking at her as she used it to cover herself.

No answer. Sherlock glanced down the stairs and then at his watch, 3:36am. He looked at the front door from the top of his steps and remembered that Mrs. Hudson had been in the building when the blast went off... but she hadn't come to check on them. Was _she_ hurt?

Sherlock tramped down the stairs and knocked on Mrs. Hudson's door quickly. After a few moments, a very tired-looking Mrs. Hudson answered the door in a daze.

"What is it, Sherlock?" she asked, bewildered, but perfectly unharmed. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Just needed to check on you. Good night, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said, spinning on heel and heading back up the stairs. She stared after him before closing her door once more. Sherlock was satisfied that Mrs. Hudson was unharmed, and decided that her failing hearing in her older age had kept her from being fully aware of the large-scale explosion and perhaps passed it off as fireworks or such. He would inform her in the morning.

He found Calvin still sitting on the couch, but this time had a book in her hands. One of his books.

"What are you still doing here?" he demanded, she barely glanced up from her book to regard him.

"I'll fall asleep if I go back downstairs." she said, tone passive as her eyes flew over the page. "And it's hardly safe for me to be _alone_ at such a time. Damsel in distress and all that." She was obviously teasing him, and he collapsed in the chair across from the window. In reality, she was covering for the fact that she was too frightened to be alone at this time. She swallowed that part of her and made her passive emotions as real as possible in her own mind.

"Blast came from across the street." he informed her, Calvin's eyes peeked back up to look at him, interested now. "I'd suspect a gas leak but that's too obvious."

"Too obvious?" Calvin asked, getting up and making her way, painfully, over to the window. She saw the smoking remains of the shop across the street and saw a few people panicking, perhaps neighbors.

"Should we help them?"

"What for? That's the Yard's job." Sherlock scoffed, and Calvin pursed her lips in irritation at him, but she simply turned and looked at him with a bemused look.

"Well you seem to like doing the Yard's job on every _other_ day of the week." she retorted, still with an aloof smirk gracing her face. Sherlock snorted at her, crossing his legs haughtily. Calvin narrowed her eyes at him ever so slightly, and returned to her seat on the couch, careful not to touch her back to the couch. She picked back up her book and decided to ignore him for the rest of the night.

It wasn't very difficult for Calvin to stay awake throughout the night. She simply kept reading the book she had taken from Sherlock's shelf. He did not seem to mind the absence of conversation, although he did wonder aloud to her a few times, to which she did not respond. She drifted off into a state of only thought as she continued to read, which she was only awakened from when Mycroft Holmes entered the flat, sun shining through the windows at this time. Calvin glanced at Sherlock and found that he had changed.

Mycroft was staring at her in a most amused fashion. "Ah, Sherlock, it seems that you have become rather _close_ with young Miss. Baker, then?" he implied, sitting across from his brother in the second armchair. Calvin realized that she was still wearing Sherlock's robe, which covered her from neck to thigh, masking the shorts she had on. For all Mycroft knew, she was naked under it.

Sherlock glared at his brother. "Oh for _god's_ sake, Mycroft. _No_." he snapped. Calvin took the moment to head down to her flat to change into something. She was, after all, still topless.

"Why is her... undergarment on your couch, then?" Calvin heard Mycroft ask as she headed down the stairs, and allowed a laugh to escape her lips as she entered her flat. She'd left her bra on the couch. She couldn't hear Sherlock's angry reply, but was amused by his revulsion of her.

Changing was difficult for her, as every part of her body stung and ached, but she managed to get on presentable clothing for work. She _would _be going to work today. She had to.

Calvin washed her face and braided her hair down the side of her face, allowing her bangs to sweep to the side and cover the large bruise on her forehead. Her headache was almost gone, and she guessed that she had not suffered a concussion. Standard make up covered the tired circles under her eyes and the small nicks she had received on her face.

Making her way slowly back up the stairs, she found that John had arrived. Sherlock now had his violin in hand and was plucking at it.

"Are you okay?" John demanded instantly, checking her face over. Calvin smiled at him.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Sherlock tells me you were rather badly injured, shards of glass in your back and all." Mycroft said with a less than friendly smile, and John's eyes widened.

"Let me see..." John demanded, moving around to her back and saw a bit of bandage peeking through her shirt. He raised the hem slightly to inspect it, and Calvin swatted his hand away.

"I'm _fine_. What is it with you two and trying to get me clothes off, huh?" Calvin teased and John's eyes went immediately to Sherlock.

"_What_." he demanded, and then spotted the white bra still sitting on the couch. "He _what_."

"Not like that, John." Sherlock snapped.

"He fixed me up rather nicely, is all." Calvin explained, and grabbed her bra off the couch, stuffing it in her purse. She turned to see Mycroft rocking on his heels, still looking at Sherlock.

"As I was saying, you've got to find those plans, Sherlock." he continued. "Don't make me order you."

Sherlock lifted his violin to his shoulder. "I'd like to see you try." he answered. Calvin cocked her head in interest. She had been right. Sibling rivalry, at it's finest. Although the two were so painfully alike.

"Think it over." Mycroft said with a slight smile. He turned abruptly.

"Good bye, John." he said, shaking Watson's hand. "See you very soon." Mycroft's eyes turned to Calvin.

"Good bye, Miss. Baker. Do feel better." he said.

"If it's up to these two, I'll have head trauma by the end of next week." Calvin answered drly, and Mycroft smiled wider at her before turning on his heel to leave. Sherlock began playing a fast, angry tune on his violin as he left.

John furrowed his brow at his friend until he stopped. Calvin chuckled to herself and waved to the two.

"I have to be off to work. Have fun with your new case, boys." Calvin said with a smile, taking a few painful steps to the stairs.

"Work? You're hurt." John exclaimed, taking a few steps toward her, as if to stop her. Calvin stopped and looked at him over her good shoulder, despite the pain in her back.

"And I will continue to be hurt for quite some time, John. Besides, pain builds character." she said, grinning as she repeated what she told Sherlock that morning. John looked doubtful but didn't stop Calvin as she made her way down the steps and outside.

"Had a fun night with Calvin, then?"

OoOoOoOoOo

GAH THIS CHAPTER SUCKS I AM SO SORRY PLEASE EXCUSE MY LACK OF WRITING SKILLS.

No matter how I wrote this it came out _wrong_ gah I can't write. I apologize but this is the best that I could get it. But it _does_ have a tiny bit of Calvin/Sherlock if you squint REALLY hard. Or rather it was a chapter that had a lot of interaction between them.

But anyway. We are getting closer and closer to Moriarty. fuck yeah. I am SO FUCKING EXCITED OH MY GOD I LOVE HIM.

Anyway I'm tired. Thanks again for ALL YOUR COMMENTS AND IMPUT AND FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH HOLY SHIT.

Guest named **Emma: **Calvin and Sherlock is my OTP 6evr so ha. And thank you! I like the fact that she has anxiety because it adds new layers to her character and it makes me happy.

**Hiding in the Shadow**: Thank you! I like the new layers, too! And yay! Senor Moriarty!

**kykyxstandler: **Ugh I know. Je veux la romance aussi, mais c'est impossible pour maintenant. (I want the romance also but it's impossible for now. Im feeling Frenchy right now) Someday!

OKAY IM GOING TO BED NOW. BON SOIR. JE T'AIME. I LIKE FRENCH.

Jess


	11. Chapter 11

Coming home to her door wide open and voices drifting out put Calvin on edge. She recognized the voices to belong to Sherlock, John, and Lestrade, but the fact that they were in her flat without permission made her nervous.

"He's a bomber, remember." she heard John's voice warn just as she entered the room. Oh that sounded just _fabulous_.

"Uh, context, please?" she said, walking in and smiling at the three men as they turned to stare at her.

Sherlock was looking down at a pair of shoes that were sitting in the middle of her floor. Calvin looked at him, at the shoes, then back up at him. "So are those yours or...?" she asked, coming to stand next to John in her flat. She nodded in greeting to Lestrade.

"Look." Sherlock snapped, thrusting a pink cased phone at her. There was a picture open. It was of the shoes, taken as they were now in her empty flat. Her eyes widened just slightly.

"I don't understand." she said slowly, forcing down a panic attack with all of her might. Somebody had _been in her flat_. She held one of two keys, Mrs. Hudson had the first on a keyring that she kept with her at all times, and Calvin obviously had the other. Someone got into her flat without the key. Which means they could do it again. It made her sick, not feeling safe in her own home.

"The bomber. The explosion from yesterday? The person responsible placed these here as a clue." Sherlock explained impatiently, snatching the phone back. He got down to eye level with the shoes... before the ringer went off on the phone he had just placed in his pocket.

The whole room tensed as Sherlock answered, a crying woman speaking to him from the other line. Calvin took a step forward to listen carefully, and learned that the bomber was speaking through this crying woman.

"_Psychopath. Smart, secretive, professional psychopath. Enjoys theatrics. Word choice: naughty. Childish._" Calvin mentally noted as the woman spoke for the bomber. Her mind analyzed the wordings and the first impression habits of the person behind this 'puzzle' as fast as it could, and she could only come up with that. Twelve hours. A time limit. He's testing Sherlock... a rivalry?

Sherlock replaced the phone in his pocket slowly, thinking for a moment before grabbing the shoes and heading for the door.

"Uh, _bomber_!" John yelled in alarm, staring at the shoes in horror. As he ran after Sherlock.

"Oh please, John, if this person wanted to kill me he would have already done so." Sherlock snapped, irritated.

"He won't kill you unless it's theatrical." Calvin muttered, following after them out the door.

"Yes, exactly. Wait, why are you following us?" Sherlock demanded, stopping in his tracks.

Calvin smirked at him. "A person broke into my flat with no sign of forced entry, and so happens to be the person who half blew me up yesterday night who _also_ has given you a cell phone with which to contact you through a hostage. I'm not staying in my flat _alone_, are you mad?" she told him. Sherlock stared at her for a moment before reluctantly beginning to walk out the door again. "Besides. This is a high class psychopath. I work in psychology. I can help this time."

"She can come, Sherlock, for god's sake." John muttered. Sherlock ignored him.

Sherlock scoffed as Lestrade opened the door to his police car. Calvin sat in front with John and Sherlock in the back. "You can _help_. Well how do you know that this is, in fact, a 'high class psychopath'? It could be an amateur with a handful of good ideas." he retorted.

"Can you trace the call, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, turning around in her seat.

"No, he's too smart for that."

Calvin smiled. "Exactly my point."

OoOoOoOoOo

Calvin was relatively silent at Bart's as Sherlock worked on deciphering any and all clues om the shoes. She was thinking, thinking about anything other than the psychopath being in her _flat_ that day. So she replayed the conversation Sherlock had with him through her head over and over, trying to pick any little traits about his way of speaking (or typing. It was the words that mattered, not the tone.) or operating.

Nothing came to mind besides her analyzation from earlier. Theatrical. Childish. Intelligent. Professional. A deadly mix for a killer. Of course, she could be wrong. That could be simply a persona he was putting on while 'speaking' with Sherlock. Calvin was doubting herself, and she declared the only descriptive word that was concrete was 'psychopath'. Perhaps not even that.

Doubt clouded her mind. She hated to be wrong, hated to make wrong assumptions. Being wrong reflected on a person forever. Make a mistake, and suddenly, everyone trusts you a little less. Calvin cursed herself for calling the man 'theatrical' to Sherlock. If she was wrong, he would remember that every time she said something. She was wrong about her almost-murderer, she was probably wrong again.

The machine next to Sherlock 'beep'ed and he had found a match for whatever he was looking for. Calvin jumped in her seat, and her head swiveled to the door as Molly strode in to check on Sherlock. A man followed after her...

"This is Sherlock Holmes. And, uh, I'm sorry..."

"John Watson."

"And, oh gosh..."

"Calvin Baker. Hi there."

Molly called the man Jim.

Sherlock barely looked at him, still staring through his microscope.

Sherlock called the man gay.

Jim soon left, and Molly confronted Sherlock on his calling Jim 'gay'. Calvin barely listen to Sherlock speaking, as her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Why do you always have to _spoil_ everything?" Molly demanded, angry. Calvin looked up with disinterest. Sherlock's rebuttle was everything that the man had been or had done that insisted that he was, in fact, gay. Molly stormed out.

"No, Sherlock, _that_ wasn't kind." Calvin heard John insist and Calvin chuckled under her breath. Both men looked up at her.

"It truly is a wonder why you don't have a girlfriend." she teased, running a hand through her hair. "Truly. Eighth Wonder of the World and all that, Sherlock." He glared at her, fixing the shoes next to him with one hand.

Calvin leaned forward just slightly. "You can figure out anything about anybody... _except_ how socialization works." she told him. "Oh... yes, I forgot, you like to bypass the frivolties conversation. I suppose, in your mind, you _were_ being kind to her. No beating around the bush as women do, no half-hearted encouragement even though you _know_ the truth."

The two simply stared at her for a bit. She sighed.

"I'm sorry. I'm overtired. I have no idea what I'm saying." she said, waving her hand. "The fact that I've been threatened and almost killed more times in the past few days than a soap opera character won't be getting me much sleep, either."

She sighed, standing up out of the stool. "On that note, I'm going home. Good night, boys, hopefully I won't be the next person calling you from a psychopath's phone. Though it wouldn't exactly surprise me." she waved half-heartedly and had trouble opening the door before heading out.

"She needs to stay with us, Sherlock. At least until this guy's over and done with." John told him, looking after Calvin with concern. She was acting strange...r than usual.

"You say that every time, John." Sherlock growled. "If you want to get off with her just take her out for _god's _sake."

John scowled at him. "That's not what I'm trying to do, Sherlock." he snapped. "It's the _right_ thing to do. The guy was _in her apartment_. She's obviously scared."

"He won't go after her. She's too close to me... proximity-wise."

"And what if he thinks that's just a more fun challenge, huh? She said it; he's theatrical."

Sherlock turned to him, exasperated and irritated. "For god's-We're _right upstairs_. Nothing will happen to her. We might as well invite Mrs. Hudson and the whole of Baker Street since you're so worried about it."

John crossed his arms. "Sherlock. He was in her apartment. He could be targeting her."

"If he wants her that badly he'll get to her whether she's nearer to us or not." Sherlock argued.

"If this is just your personal vendetta against her..." John started.

"I do not have a personal vendetta against her. I simply do not like unnecessary company or distractions."

"Sherlock. She needs to be protected, we don't know what this guy's gonna do."

"Invite the whole of London, then, John. We have _no idea _how he's going to strike next, why should we protect _one person_ that has just as much chance as anyone else to be targeted?"

John simply stared at Sherlock, unable to find words to continue the argument. Sherlock took the opprotunity to change the subject.

"Go on then." Sherlock said, motioning to the shoes. John looked at him. "You know what I do, have a go."

John laughed without humor. "O-oh no. I'm not going to stand here while you try to humiliate me."

OoOoOoOoOo

BLAH IT'S FUCKING 5:43 IN THE MORNING I HAVE NOT SLEPT AND THIS CHAPTER FUCKING FUCKING SUCKS MY LIFE IS RUINED IM SO SORRY I MADE YOU WAIT DON'T HATE ME GAH.

My sleeping pattern is so fucked it's pregnant.

And my brother just got up for work this is embarrassing.

Time to type quietly.

Okay so tired Jess = tired Calvin and tired Calvin gets kinda mouthy. Moreso than usual. She's less inclined to keep herself mysterious. But less mysterious Calvin = found out Calvin because she'll start slipping tidbits that Sherlock will inevitably pick up. Oh gawd. Calvin, Calvin SLEEEEP.

But Sherlock like genuinely doesn't like Calvin, and that's fun to write.

Okay Im literally like dying of death right now I need to sleep. Im sorry Im a shitty writer. Please review and thanks bunches for all your reviews, favorites, and follows you gaiz rock.

kbye love you

Very tired and loopy because the sun is fucking coming up Jess


	12. Chapter 12

Calvin was found asleep on Sherlock and John's couch when they got home. She woke up and tackled Sherlock, immediately starting to ravish him whilst John looked on with horror in his eyes. He admired her bold move, though, and started to remove his coat to join in.

(AHEM)

Calvin was found asleep on Sherlock and John's couch when they got home. Sherlock sighed irritably, throwing his coat over the top of the couch and striding into the kitchen. Calvin did not stir.

"What is she doing here." Sherlock muttered, setting up his microscope in the kitchen. John rolled his eyes.

"I texted her after she left and told her to stay." he explained.

"She's no safer in here than she would be downstairs." Sherlock reminded him.

"This flat hasn't been broken into by a _psychopath_, though it may be inhabited by one." John growled angrily, opening his laptop and beginning to type something.

"Sociopath, John, sociopath." Sherlock drawled, putting a slide into the microscope and staring through it. "Besides, this flat's been half blown up. Not very good 'mojo' here, either."

John sighed, typing more furiously. "I'm going to take a shower." he announced, closing his computer forcibly and heading out the room. He was grateful, however, that Sherlock neither woke Calvin up or insisted that she leave. Sherlock soon heard the shower going, as did Calvin.

She blinked sleepily, her heart skipping a beat before remembering where she was. John had been right: she felt much more safe in the boys' flat rather that her own. Right now, she felt watched whenever she entered her apartment.

She sat up sleepily, rubbing her eyes and yawning just slightly. She rose, heading into the lit kitchen to find Sherlock working.

"Find anything?" she asked, tone very unguarded due to her sleepiness. He didn't even glance up to answer.

"Not yet." he responded, changing the slide in his microscope and adjusting the intensity. "Leave me alone, I'm working." Calvin smiled, not effected at all by his rudeness, and turned to exit the room.

"Wait." he said, and she turned expectantly.

"Get my phone." he told her.

"Where is it?"

"Pocket."

Calvin stared at him silently for a moment, glancing from his hand to his pocket a few times before complying. She slipped her hand into one of them to find no phone, hand grazing his thigh.

"Other pocket." Sherlock ground out, and Calvin chuckled at his tone.

"Calm down, you didn't specify." she said, voice full of amusement. She slipped her hand into her other pocket, retracting it with his phone and placing it in his outstretch palm. He glanced at it, pressing a few buttons before setting it on the table.

He glanced up at her. "Why are you still here." he demanded, and she laughed again, sauntering away.

"I sincerely apologize for my existence." she called to him, he only 'hmm'ing in response, as she returned to the couch and flopped back down. She had a book on the armrest that she retrieved and began to read.

John walked back into the room with wet hair but in the same clothes he had gone in with. He was expecting to be dragged back out with Sherlock later that night, but he had desperately needed a shower.

"What are you reading?" he asked, noticing Calvin was awake. She glanced over at him with a smile.

"Harry Potter." she answered.

"A kids' book?" he questioned, finding it a bit odd. She shrugged.

"I don't believe in books specifically for children or adults. If a book speaks to you, it is _for_ you." she replied, eyes flying over the page as she spoke. "Besides, I like fantasy. Makes me forget about reality for a while." John had no idea how much that meant to Calvin, to forget reality for a while.

"Only imbeciles seek to distance themselves from reality." Sherlock told her, entering the room to retrieve something from the pocket of his coat, which was still slung over the back of the couch. She stared up at him, face curiously blank.

"And by imbeciles you mean people who differ from you." Calvin answered, and though Sherlock neither agreed nor disagreed, it was obvious that she was correct.

"And you so wish for everyone to be more like you, then?"

"It would lead to a much less idiotic world, yes." Sherlock answered in a drawl that would set any normal person to become angry. Calvin, however, was completely calm.

"It's curious, Mr. Holmes, you say that you'd want the world to become more like you, but we both know that's not true." Calvin told him, closing her book with a bookmark sticking out the top. "If the world was like you, than you'd no longer be extraordinary. And being ordinary wouldn't suit you very well, Mr. Holmes, because you crave - you _need_ - the attention you receive for being amazing and clever."

"Oh how quaint, a deduction from the psychology major." Sherlock said with a mocking smile. "Anything else, or can I continue to be _clever _and save this woman's life."

Calvin smirked at him. "No, nothing else. Unless you're _clever _enough to have figured out my namesake. No? A shame, surely." she continued, reopening her book and closing the conversation. Her voice was mild and merely amused but her words had a sharp undertone that set Sherlock on edge. He left the room and sat back at his microscope.

"'If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.'" Calvin called to Sherlock, who did not answer. She was quoting Sirius Black from the _Harry Potter_ movies. The room was silent for a moment before John spoke up.

"Uh, don't insult J.K. Rowling, then. Right." John noted and Calvin laughed, her usual persona returning, sharp undertone gone.

"I've met her, actually. Lovely woman." Calvin told him. "Told me to call her for tea anytime. Some people do like me, imagine." She glanced meaningfully in the general direction of Sherlock and John chuckled. He got up to check on Sherlock. He returned with a sigh, and headed for his bedroom.

When he came back, he told Calvin that he was off to speak with Mycroft for Sherlock and would be back later. She waved, nose buried in _Philosopher's Stone_.

The flat was completely silent. Neither Calvin nor Sherlock were inclined to speak to one another, both harboring some form of irritation towards the other. Calvin wasn't put off by the fact that Sherlock had called her an idiot. She supposed that she was one in comparison to him, but the fact that he insulted her favorite book series irked her.

The _Harry Potter _series, among saving countless young lives with messages of hope and friendship and _love_, had helped to save Calvin's.

_'Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light_.' Calvin thought to herself, smiling softly at the memory of first hearing those words. So what if people thought her childish or, in Sherlock's case, idiotic? _Harry Potter_ had helped her in a way that adults barely ever understood, claiming that because it was fiction meant that it wasn't real. It was real in the hearts and minds of every child who read or watched _Harry Potter_. The friendships, the love, and the hatred all resonated and taught people a lesson.

They weren't 'just books'. They were _home_. A much better home than Calvin had ever known.

_Early July, 1997. Sitting in her bed, cool gaze reading the book she had just picked up from the book store as a treat for graduating high school. Skipping two grades as a child, Diana was only sixteen during her final year in secondary school and would be going to college as a sixteen year old, turning seventeen in April. _

_Though, skipping only _two_ grades in her family was not as impressive as her older brother, who skipped three. The trials of being in a family of geniuses. _

_"Diana, what are you reading?" her mother's voice sighed in that condescending way that she used with all of her children, but most often with Diana. The young girl looked up, skillfully hiding her anxiety of being found reading a fantasy novel._

_"A book." she answered dully, trying to bore her mother into leaving her alone. No dice, Mrs. Heidi Baker clicked up to her daughter, wearing full heels in their posh home as a way of intimidating her children with every. punctuated. step, and grabbed the book. Calvin did not protest, but fear flashed through her eyes as her mother lost her page and read the title._

_"And how is this supposed to get you into college, Diana? Hm?" Mrs. Baker demanded. "Will this - this _Harry Potter_ somehow help you pass your classes? You will need all the help you can get."_

_"Mother, please, you've lost my page." she protested, reaching for the book to have it pulled out of her grasp. Her mother slapped her hand with stinging nails, adjusting her glasses after she'd done so._

_"Do something useful with your time, Diana. I cannot imagine what your father would say." she sighed in that disappointed way that made even the most powerful man feel inadequate. Diana shrunk back and her mother's sharp, analytical stare that could only belong to a hardest psychiatrist, caught the change. "Do not tell me you're having those... those _anxiety_ problems again. Please, Diana, I thought you had grown out of that phase."_

_Diana straightened up, eyes hardening and expression becoming blank. "I want my book." she said in the voice that was completely void of any emotion that would betray her quavering insides. Her mother seemed satisfied that Diana's disorders were not present, and handed the book back._

_"Fine. But if you think your father and I are paying for your education when you are rotting your mind on fantasy novels, you will be sorely disappointed." She turned to leave the room, heels clicking and echoing as she went. Diana flinched after every 'click' as her mother's back was turned._

_"You're not paying for my education, remember? Full scholarship." Diana muttered, flipping through her book to find the page. Her mother turned back, blue eyes so much like Calvin's but lacking the humor that usually was held in her daughter's, stared, narrowed, at her daughter._

_"It is not like you will be able to keep that scholarship for long." she dismissed and left the room with that hanging in the air and suffocating Diana. She felt a lone tear escape her eye and drop onto Harry's name on the page. She quickly wiped her traitorous eye and settled back against her pillows. Never good enough. Never _ever_ good enough._

Calvin was awoken by a shaking of her arm. She looked up and saw John staring down at her with concern. She saw the stain of tears on the pillow her head had been resting on and immediately wiped her face. It had been a vivid flashback dream.

"Are you okay? You were muttering and, uh, crying in your sleep." John told her, and she sent the brightest, most blinding smile up at him.

"Of course, just a really scary dream." she said, as if it were no big deal.

"Well it was only in your head, it's not real. You're safe here." John assured her, presuming that the dream had had something to do with the frightening events that had transpired over the last few days. Calvin smiled, nodding and agreeing.

"'_But why on earth should that mean that is is not real_.'" Calvin whispered to herself as soon as John was out of earshot. She was quoting Harry Potter again, but with a much more dark meaning to it. She was unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

OoOoOoOo

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related, the quotes aren't mine they're the lovely JK Rowling's, and for that matter I own nothing Sherlock related, either, just Calvin. Don't steal Calvin or her backstory or her personality or my story elements or I will be so fucking pissed.

Sorry this is so HP-centric. I love Harry Potter, I expect that you like HP as well because in my whole life I have met only ONE PERSON who does not, and so yay. This chapter turned out strangely heart warming, like when Calvin reflected on how HP touches lives. Fiction really does, guys, and it's beautiful.

YAY CALVIN FLASHBACK TO DIANA. I wrote 'Calvin' like 3524763 times in that because yeah. Did you all like the little insight to her life? I mean you know some about college and after and obviously all about her at Baker Street, but I haven't spoken much about her parents or childhood, besides that her parents died.

(Did you also like my little joke at the beginning of this chapter? Twas in response to **WL Chastain**'s review, and I think myself to be somewhat funny sometimes.)

Let's do a little response:

**KittyNyan2012**: You make me happy, dahling. You flatter me, too. Actually everyone who reviews me flatters me. And god I hate not having Wi-Fi. I literally cannot survive without le internets for too long. But you're a sweetheart and I appreciate you as a person.

**Emma**: Gah. I love you too. And it looks like I'm staying up hella late again because I am not tired. And Calvin's mah beybey back off. (No we can share. I share her will all ya'lls.)

**WL Chastain: **Hi again. I just read your profile because reasons and you are my spirit animal let's be friends. I agree with EVERYTHING ON THERE. I hope you enjoyed the little blurb at the beginning cause that's dedicated to you. I had ribs and Sprite when I woke up, because I was up at like 3 so bam. And I don't like coffee. Unless it has like 22525634 pumps of chocolate in it.

**Sneezy Whale: **Calvin's not supposed to be normal. This is Sherlock/OC, do you really think he'd fall for anyone who's normal? Naaah. I mean look at his previous encounters: Irene and... well John. I'd say John because JohnLock is pretty much canon. Also, she actually was probably fazed by those things, but since she has anxiety and chooses to mask it, she pretended that she didn't mind it. But she also thinks it's kind of amusing because, well, she like different things. They freak her out and give her panic attacks, but she'd rather have an exciting life and deal with her problems than a life of dull, predictable, ordinary-ness. Sorry, I ramble.

**kykyxstandler: **Awe, thanks, hon. You flatter me/make me happy.

**Hiding in the Shadow: **Wait no longer! Here you go! Yay new chapter! Love you, dude, you always send me sweet reviews:)

**Kira Tsumi: **I was half asleep and loopy... I guess I get hate my writing when I can't think coherently, ahaha. Thanks for reviewing!:)

Okay I need to stop of the A/N will be longer than the actual chapter. Oops.

OKAY. Thanks so much for ya'lls support! I love you all! Don't forget to keep 'em comin'! Who's gonna be my 69th reviewer?;) OR my 100th Follower?!

Love ya'll!

Jess


	13. Chapter 13

Calvin was finally able to fall asleep as the sun began to pour in through the windows, her mind relaxing once the room was better lit. Though she only slept three hours, from seven to ten, and she was awoken by her bad dreams again.

She accessed the room, pulse jolting before realizing where she was again. Sighing and putting her hand on her throbbing forehead, she turned to see Sherlock staring at her.

"Is this going to be a regular thing? You, brooding, whilst watching me sleep?" she asked, voice husky from sleep, or lackthereof.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly. "Yes. If you insist on staying in my flat, then I will do whatever I want while you're here. That includes observation." he told her, and she chuckled softly, sitting up.

"That doesn't make it sound any more creepy." she answered, clearing her throat and rising to pour herself a cup of coffee from the still-hot batch that John had brewed earlier that day. Believe it or not, they had more than just tea in the flat.

"Actually, it sounds like you're going to experiment on me." Calvin continued, sitting back down with her warm mug in her hands. Her left hand went to her eyes, rubbing out the sleep and pushing her mussed hair back before she took a long sip of her black coffee. The caffeine wouldn't help her anxiety in the least, but Calvin could handle it.

"You have trouble sleeping." Sherlock noted. "Bad dreams, as it seems. I heard you crying last night before John came home to wake you."

Calvin froze mid-sip, the liquid suddenly seeming like tar in her throat. She had forgotten that Sherlock was there. Of course, she couldn't stop herself crying in her sleep, but she didn't want Sherlock to overhear.

When she didn't answer straight away, he continued, "I suspect family issues, since you murmured 'mother' twice in the three-hour span that you slept. The death of your parents, perhaps?"

Calvin stared up at him over her mug. "I feel no love for my parents." she murmured in a tone that was solid and did not suggest even the slightest bit of falsehood. She was being straight with Sherlock for the first time. "Nor do I regret their deaths. I was not lying previously when you asked me if they were alive. I hated them." Her tone was more open than it had ever been with Sherlock, none of her usual flippant tone or evasive manuveurs in their conversation. Sherlock detected the change.

"Perhaps a flashback to your childhood, manifested in a dream?" he suggested, cocking an eyebrow at her. With that more personal question, Calvin's walls went right back up and her usual persona went back into place.

"Dreams are an incarnation of our deepest internal thoughts. You can't possibly expect me to answer that." she answered, leaning back and smirking at him. "That's much too easy." Sherlock's face flashed with frustration before standing up.

"John. We're going to the Yard." he called, and John appeared from his bedroom. He smiled and said 'good morning' to Calvin when he spotted her.

"I'm supposing you figure out the shoes, then?" she asked John as he put on his coat. The day had become grey and slightly chilly. Calvin had heard some of the conversation that night before, and knew that they _had_, but had missed the details.

"Yeah, there was poison laced in his medication, and traces of the poison was found in the shoes." he explained quickly, following the agitated Sherlock out the door. "Be safe, we'll be back later!" he called as he trumped down the stairs after the irritated man.

Calvin sighed, rubbing her pulsing forehead again. She wanted to go with them, but was currently much too tired to even try. It was taking a toll on her body. Getting up to brush her teeth, she saw dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. Wonderful.

After brushing her teeth and scrubbing her face, she put drops in her red eyes and covered her hellish face with concealor, lining her eyes and curling her hair to give herself a more put-together look, even though she was going nowhere. She desperately wanted to go to Scotland Yard and help with the case, but, of course, her anxiety whispered at the back of her mind about being _wrong_.

Sighing, she headed down the stairs to brave her apartment and paint. Taking several hundred deep breaths, she was able to get over the feeling of somebody watching her and was able to escape a panic attack to paint.

Calvin heard John and Sherlock arrive back home later that night.

"Calvin? _Calvin_!" she heard John yelled from the apartment once he'd gone upstairs and found her not there. She hurried to the foot of the steps and called up to him that she was alright. He appeared, looking incredibly relieved.

"Aren't you cute, Dr. Watson, worrying about me." Calvin teased, wiping her paint-smeared hands on her smock as Sherlock appeared as well.

"Oh, good, you're not dead." he said, beginning to descend the stairs.

"I suppose that's the best I'll get from you, Mr. Holmes." Calivn answered, amused. "Thanks for your radical concern about my well-being."

"More like I worry for Mrs. Hudson. She does have a hard time renting that flat." Sherlock replied.

Calvin rolled her eyes. "So, where are you gents running off to, now?"

"Bart's. We have four more hours to solve this one." John replied.

"How many did you have in the first place?"

"Eight."

"So he _is_ just playing a game with you... seeing how much pressure he can place on your shoulders in a case. He's enjoying it." Calvin murmured, somewhat to the others but mostly to herself. "Can I come?"

Sherlock turned, irritated. "Why do I need _you_ to come?" he demanded.

Calvin shrugged. "You probably don't. But I'm very interested in this man that takes such joy in playing god with you, Mr. Holmes." she answered.

Without a word, Sherlock headed for the cab. Calvin took that as a 'fine' and headed out with John, sitting in the back with them. Although Sherlock didn't verbalize his adversion about Calvin coming with them, he still was obviously not happy.

Arriving at Bart's, Sherlock immediately took a seat in his usual lab and Calvin and John were at the opposite end of the room as he worked. Neither of them were actually needed, except for people for Sherlock to voice his observations to, but Calvin was enjoying simply watching Sherlock in his element.

John, however, was not as patient. "I'm going to get a snack. Want anything?" he asked the two after an hour of basic silence. Calvin verbally declined, with a 'thank you', and Sherlock just ignored him.

When John left the room, Sherlock's pink phone almost immediately started to ring. Calvin was at his side in a second, wanting to hear what the man had to say. He shot her an irritated look before answering.

"_The clue's in the name - Janus Cars_." a newly male voice said at the other end. Calvin had not been present during the first call and was momentarily distracted by the new voice.

"Why would you be giving me a clue?" Sherlock asked, though Calvin noticed a very slight smile coming over his face.

"_Why does anyone do anything?_ _Because I'm bored_." Calvin blinked. That sounded very much like something Sherlock would say. That he was bored. _"We were made for each other, Sherlock_."

"What are you bored of?" Calvin piped up, unable to control herself. This could possibly be her only chance to learn something from the man.

"_Ah the girl is eavesdropping on us, Sherlock._" the man replied, and though it was said in a shakey tone, it was as if the bomber was very familiar with Calvin. It unnerved her. "_To answer your question, pretty lady, I am bored of the _world_."_

"Talk to me in your own voice." Sherlock suddenly demanded, the fact that the focus had shifted off of him irritating the consulting detective.

"_Patience_."

Silence hit the other end, and Sherlock set the phone back down. "Did you have to interrupt?" he demanded, going back to his work.

"You learned something about him, didn't you? He's just playing with you because you're different. He's taken an interest in you because you're not the norm. He's psychotic and _bored_."

"All things I already know." Sherlock muttered and Calvin rolled her eyes behind his back, smirking as she returned to her seat.

"You can't blame me for being curious." Calvin said, going back to her psychology book and studying the text on psychopath behavior and trends. It was the book from her college course that she taught, but it had a lot of insightful information on psychology.

"I can when you involve yourself where you do not belong." Sherlock retorted, not even glancing up at her as the scorching words left his mouth.

"I don't belong here?"

"No." he responded, glancing up this time to gauge her reaction. There was not one, however, she was stil poring over the textbook on the table. She glanced sideways at him.

"Lestrade thinks I can help. I _am_ a professor of psychology, you know. And my parents were psychiatrists. I know more than you think I do."

"I know more than you ever have." Sherlock retorted in that proud way that made most people want to deck him. "And ever will. Besides that, Lestrade is an idiot."

"He must be, to let you be involved."

The room was deadly silent as the two stared at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Calvin was looking sideways at him from her book and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her as he lifted them from the microscope. She, for once, was not smirking. The eye contact was serious as death as the two geniuses sized each other up.

"If you're so damn _amazing_ then why haven't you figured out my namesake?"

"If you are so damn _mysterious_ then why do you _want _me to?"

The silence fell over the lab once more and Calvin prayed to ever deity that she knew of to keep John and Molly and whoever else away from the area right now. She was too interested in the scene unfolding.

"It hardly _matters_, anyway," Sherlock said, breaking the silence and allowing his eyes to return to the microscope slide he was currently studying. "I have not figured it out yet because I have not had the time nor the patience to play your mind games. It is not anything of consequence. If you haven't noticed, I have been spending my time doing important things, solving _important_ cases."

"That's why you're shooting at a wall and whining that you're bored half the time." Calvin reminded him, shutting her textbook and approaching the desk that Sherlock was working on to lean in closer. Her smirk had returned. "You desperately want the answer but you just can't figure it out. Too many variables, not enough solid fact to go off of. If it were _easy_, then go ahead. Deduce me right now. Prove how smart you are."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I don't have to prove _anything_." he snapped. "Least of all to a person like you."

"A person like me." Calvin repeated with amusement. "You're just angry that an ordinary person - a person _like me_ - is able to keep something from the all-powerful Sherlock Holmes."

He said nothing.

"You have no problem with someone like the man on the phone being better than you. Because he's _smart_. He's like _you_. But me, because I'm not nearly as clever, not _nearly_ as intelligent as you are and not nearly as significant, who can hold something as _in_significant as my name out of your reach..." Calvin stopped talking, shrugging away her anger and her anxiety. It was letting her become too emotional. Her cool exterior came back into place.

"Good night, Mr. Holmes." she said, and walked to the door, textbook in hand. She had opened the door just a crack before it was slammed shut by a pale hand. Calvin turned to find herself almost trapped to the door by a very close in proximity Sherlock. His eyes were intense and angry, staring down at her from a half-foot above her.

"Give me _something_." he demanded, and Calvin knew exactly what he was talking about.

"A _clue_? That's hardly your style, Mr. Holmes."

He was silent, anxiously waiting an answer. Calvin thought for a moment. Shouldn she give him a clue? What could she say? Sherlock still had no idea that she had severe anxiety - she hoped. Anything she could say really wouldn't help him all that much, because her name was linked to her anxiety.

"My mother wore heels in our house every day of my sixteen years living there." Calvin answered finally. "We had hardwood floors."

Her eyes swept up to meet Sherlock's, smiling up at him with amusement. "Good night, Mr. Holmes." she repeated softly, reaching for his slim wrist to pull it gently from the door behind her and disappearing down the steps.

Sherlock stared after her, a mix of anger, exasperation, and appreciation swimming in his eyes. John appeared a few minutes later with a can of soda and a bag of crisps for himself.

"Where did Calvin go?" John demanded when he found only Sherlock in the darkened room.

"Home." Sherlock answered shortly, changing the slide in the microscope.

"Home? Wasn't she worried about being there alone?" John asked incredulously, cracking the can and taking a sip.

"She'll be fine, John, for god's sake she's a grown woman."

"A grown woman involved in a psycho's game. What if he targets her next?"

"He won't. And if he does, we'll get her out the same way we have for the others. Calm down and hand me that slide, will you?"

OoOoOoOoOoOo

CALVIN VS SHERLOCK HEAD TO HEAD MATCH. WHO WILL WIN WHO WILL LOSE WHO WILL CRY LIKE A BITCH

Oh god I have such a headache.

Oh, and Sherlock would win.

I'm soorrryyy it took so long for this to come out. I had it half finished for like three days. I'm reallllyyy excited for the next chapter, though. It's Moriarty. And it's gonna be good.

Yeah I'm skipping the rest of it because Calvin and Sherlock are kinda gonna be pissed at each other for a while. MORE DETAILS TO COME

Okay guys I need to sleep! Gimme some reviews to squeal at when I wake up! I love you all!

Jess


	14. Chapter 14

The next few days were silence in the flat. John still insisted that Calvin say with them in 221B, but Calvin and Sherlock refused to talk to each other. She slept on the couch, even when John told her that she could have Sherlock's vacant bed, and he acted as though she wasn't there.

"Okay, I don't know what happened between you two," John said, breaking the silence late on Tuesday night while he typed on his blog, Sherlock was watching the telly, and Calvin was reading _Half Blood Prince_.

"But you're acting like teenagers. The sexual tension is stifling." he continued. Sherlock didn't look up from the TV and Calvin snickered on the couch, glancing up from her book.

"Sexual tension. That's funny." she said, leaning back in the couch as her eyes returned to the words on the page.

Sherlock glanced over her ruefully before crossing his arms in a huff, watching the telly with his brow furrowed. Silence fell over the apartment again, save for the soft voices on the TV and John's light typing.

"No, no, no!" Sherlock suddenly exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turnups on his jeans!" John glanced over at him with an amused smile that mirrored Calvin's as her eyes peeked up from her book again.

"I knew it was a bad idea." John murmured, going back to his blog.

"What?"

"Getting you into crap telly."

"It was my idea." Calvin piped up, grinning at John. "I sincerely apologize... but it keeps him from shooting up walls so that's something." The two met eyes and shared the joke. John shut his laptop, saying "I'm going to Sarah's." at the same time that Calvin said, "I want some take-out."

"There's still some risotto in the fridge... and I'll need to get some milk." John continued, looking at Sherlock, who was still enthralled in whatever crap sitcom he was watching.

"Unless you want some take-out?" Calvin offered, trying to be diplomatic.

"No take-out for me. But I'll get the milk." he offered in return, still staring at the TV. Both John and Calvin seemed surprised by the offer.

"And some... beans, then?" John continued, and Sherlock nodded in agreement. John smiled in disbelief.

"I'll be back in a half hour." Calvin told him, though he didn't seem to care much. She shrugged and followed John down the stairs.

"Where are you going? Wanna share a cab?"

"Eh, Sarah's is only a few blocks away. I'll walk this time, it's nice out." John said, hailing a cab for Calvin. "Don't let him watch too much telly, eh? I don't want him getting any sort of... _ideas_ from it."

"Alright, mum." Calvin teased, getting into the cab. "See you tomorrow morning. Have fun with _Sarah_." John exchanged grins with Calvin before the cab pulled away from the curb.

OoOoOoOoOo

_Please collect. The Pool. Midnight._

Sherlock entered the pool area, poised and alert for whoever this mystery man was behind the hostages. He was certain that it was a man. He looked around the darkened room before holding up the jump drive.

"Brought you a little, 'getting to know you' present." he called into the seemingly empty pool area. There was no answer, so he continued.

"That's what it's all been for, isn't it?" he said into the still-empty pool room, looking around with the jump drive held high. "All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this."

He turned as he heard the door open behind him. He turned with a slightly smirk on his face that disappeared immediately as he spotted John, wrapped in a large coat.

"Evening." John said. "This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"John... what the hell...?"

"Bet you never saw this coming." Sherlock took a few steps closer, horror masking his face as he realized what was going on before John even revealed it, opening his coat to show the explosives strapped to his chest, a little red sniper dot shaking on his chest.

"This isn't all though, Sherlock." he continued ruefully as the door he had come through banged open again, with Calvin stepping through this time. Her face was blank, and she opened her much smaller coat to reveal a single explosive, strapped in the middle of her chest. A dot flickered at her chest and at her forehead. She was shaking, her jaw jumping as she set it with fear. John reached over and grasped her hand with his, hoping to comfort her in some way.

"Isn't this lovely." she ground out, obviously speaking for the man behind the microphone. "What would you like me to make them say next? What would you like me to make them... _do_ next?"

"Gottle of geer. Gottle of geer. Gottle of - ." John started to say as Calvin began meowing.

"Stop it." Sherlock demanded, looking around the pool area, hoping to find the man behind this.

"Nice touch this, the pool," John started.

"- where little Carl died." Calvin finished.

"I stopped him."

Calvin swallowed hard and hesitated. She flinched as she gave in and said what she was bade. "I can stop John Watson, too." she whispered, unable to look at either John or Sherlock. "Stop his heart."

"And I can stop DianaBaker." John told Sherlock, having a same type of reaction as Calvin as he said it. Calvin flinched noticably, either from her name being said or the threat on her life. Probably both. John squeezed her hand. "But then you'd never know her little secret."

"Stop it." Sherlock snapped, stepping closer still and glancing at every corner of the room. He couldn't even spot the snipers hidden in the higher floors. "Who are you?"

A door opened and Sherlock braced himself. Who was it this time? Molly? Lestrade? _Mrs. Hudson_? Who else was this man going to dangle in front of his face?

"I gave you my number." the man's playful voice exclaimed, and Sherlock knew immediately who he was. This was the man behind it all. He turned, but could only see a sliver of his face behind the wall. "Thought you might call."

He sauntered out slowly, garbed in a nice suit. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket," he started, moving further into the room. "Or are you just pleased to see me?"

Sherlock pulled the gun the man had named out of his pocket, training it on his head. "Both." he answered. Calvin stared at the gun. It wouldn't do any good against this man.

The man seemed unperturbed by the gun pointing directly at his face. "Jim Moriarty." he said, hands in pockets and completely at ease. "Hi!" Sherlock's brow furrowed in confusion at the aloof nature of the man that had threatened hundreds of lives with his public explosive hostages. Calvin had been right about that, though Sherlock hadn't taken into account _how_ right.

Also; Jim. It was the same Jim that had been dating Molly. 'Gay' Jim.

"Jim?" Moriarty said with mock realization. "Jim from the hospital?"

Something in Calvin's mind clicked. The voice. _The_ voice, in her earpiece. She had known that it sounded familiar, but there was something about having your life threatened that made one forget some details. It was obvious, when she thought about it. And frightening. If he was able to so easily slip past her radar, much less Sherlock's legendary deduction skills, then who _was_ this man?

Sherlock said nothing, only lifting his left hand to the gun as well, training it more expertly on the Moriarty's face as he walked slowly closer.

"Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression? But... then, I suppose, that was rather the point." he continued in the same amused tone. The dots flickered on Calvin and John's bodies, and Sherlock glanced at them.

"Don't be silly. Other people are holding the rifles." Moriarty said, as if the idea was completely preposterous. "I don't like getting my hands dirty."

"I'm a specialist, you see." he explained after Sherlock stayed silent, gun still pointed straight at the mad man. "Like _you_." He smiled slightly.

Sherlock mirrored the smile with one of his own as it all clicked into place. "Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me... to get rid of my lover's nasty sister."

Jim stepped forward, grinning now, as Sherlock became fully aware of what game was being played here. "Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" Althougn Calvin had not been present for much of the case, she still was understanding by what she read in John's blog and what John had told her himself.

"Just so."

"A consulting criminal." Sherlock said with a smirk as Calvin thought a similar explanation silently. "Brilliant." he said, much softer.

Jim chuckled lightly, as if he were bashful of the compliment. "Isn't it?" he said, obviously not actually bashful of any sort of praise. His tone suggested that he was currently eating it up. Calvin longed to turn around, but the red dots on her chest warned her not to dare.

"No one ever gets to me." Jim told them. "And no one ever will."

"I did." Sherlock declared, cocking the gun.

Jim still seemed unperturbed. "You've come the closest. Now you're in my way." he said.

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes you did."

Jim grinned. "Yeah, okay, I did." he conseded, shrugging. "But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough, now!" His voice turned suddenly sing-song that sent shivers down Calvin's spine. John glanced at her, sharing her fear in the exact way.

"I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems." he continued. "Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So, take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off."

Calvin glanced at Sherlock, whose face was hardened and blank. "Although, I have loved this, this little game of ours, playing Jim from IT, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?" he was sauntering closer with every word and Calvin began violently shaking. Her anxiety was taking over and she was about two seconds away from having a panic attack. The only thing keeping her grounded was John's hand squeezing her own, showing his fear with the sheer force he was gripping her with.

"People have died." Sherlock reminded him seethingly.

"That's what people _**DO**_**.**" Jim yelled, his voice starting off completely aloof and transforming to livid and mad at the last word. Calvin flinched hard at the tone, while John closed his eyes to try and relax himself. The word echoed throughout the pool.

"I will stop you." Sherlock promised.

"No you won't." Jim replied a-matter-of-factly.

Sherlock turned to John and Calvin who had been standing quietly. "Are you alright?" he demanded. The two stayed quiet, not wanting to risk disobeying the 'rules' with answering his question.

"You can talk." Jim told them in his unsettling sing-song voice. He leaned in close to John as his hand skated over Calvin's shoulders. "Go ahead."

They both opted to nod, unable to get worthwhile words out. Jim smiled, amused. He crossed over to stand just in front of Calvin, who took a good look at him. Eerily attractive with a gleam in his eye that warned anyone to stay away. He caught her eye out of the corner of his.

"See something you like, pretty lady?" he asked softly. She immediately cast her eyes to the ground, not answering. He grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"And you _are_ pretty, aren't you?" he exclaimed, moving her face around forcibly to get a good look at her. Her blue eyes stayedfixed on the ground until he leaned close, demanding her eyes to be on him.

"Have you taken advantage of our pretty little Diana yet, Sherlock?" he asked, not turning to look at him just yet. He kept his eyes locked on Calvin's, who felt exposed trapped in his gaze. "No? Well, maybe John has. They look pretty comfortable holding hands right now."

He released Calvin's chin and turned on heel to step closer to Sherlock, standing in front of John now. "If you need help getting her in the sack, I can help with that. She'll do an-y-thing I say, strapped to that bomb. I have to warn you, though, the climax might be a little... _explosive_..."

"Take it." Sherlock interrupted, having heard enough. He held the flashdrive out to Moriarty.

"Hm? Oh! That!" he exclaimed, stepping closer. "The missile plans..." He took the piece of plastic from Sherlock's hand, who returned his hand to the gun still aimed at Moriarty. He kissed it lightly.

"Boring!" he sang, throwing it into the pool. "I could have got that anywhere!" John took the initiative to run forward and wrapping his arm around Moriarty's throat. He dragged Calvin behind him, shielding them both from the gunmen with Moriarty's body.

"Sherlock, run!" they both yelled in unison, Calvin saying it out of instinct and John saying it as result of the plan he had concocted, standing there silently. The dots frantically moved across Moriarty's torso, trying to find a place to shoot John or Calvin without blowing their boss up.

"O-ho! _Good_!" Jim laughed, not struggling. "_Very _good!" Sherlock did not run, but kept the gun trained on Moriarty, unwilling to leave John or Calvin although they both had opted to give up their lives for him to leave.

"If your snipers pull those triggers, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up." John hissed, tightening his arm around Jim's neck.

"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around." Jim teased. "Diana, though, she's a bit _dull_."

"I just don't fancy touching you again, Moriarty." Calvin said haughtily, rubbing the place where he had gripped her chin in disgust. She was feeling a bit more confident now that they were more in control. But as she looked up at where the snipers were poised, she knew the next move in this game of chess.

He chuckled at her response before continuing. "People do get sentimental about their pets. So touchingly loyal but... _oops_."

"John, _John_,the snipers are going to aim for Sherlock." Calvin whispered in his ear, her eyes still watching the rafters for any signs of the men with the guns.

"You've rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson." Jim continued, watching the red dot as it, indeed, landed on Sherlock's forehead. "Gotcha!"

Calvin was the first to step away before John roughly, and begrudgingly, released Moriarty and put his hands up in a form of surrender. Jim straightened his coat with a look on his face that was incredulous that anyone would _dare_ to crumple his suit. The sniper left Sherlock's forehead and returned to Calvin and John.

"Westwood." he said, dusting it off further. His face was serious again.

"Do you know what happens, if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you."

"Oh let me guess. I get killed." Sherlock answered in a bored tone.

"Kill you? N-no... don't be obvious." Moriarty said. "I mean I'm gonna kill you anyway someday. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special."

"No, no, no, no, if you don't stop prying..." he continued, pausing for a moment with his mouth ajar. "I'll burn you." He told him softly.

"I wil burn the _**heart**_out of you." he said, his voice transforming from light to dark and threatening, then back to aloof again, complete with a half-smile to tie it all up. It was as if he had a double personality. Calvin cocked her head slightly, suddenly very interested.

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock retorted, his eyes flickering over to where Calvin and John stood. The former of the two closed her eyes and smiled slightly at the nod.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Jim told him knowingly, his voice softer than it had ever been. He turned to glance at John and Calvin pointedly.

"Well!" he said suddenly. "I'd better be off." He turned again to smile at John and Calvin.

"So nice to have a proper chat."

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?" Sherlock demanded, bringing the gun a little bit closer to Moriarty's face, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the mad man.

Moriarty looked at the ceiling. "Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." he said, showing Sherlock exactly how that would look in a mocking fashion. He grinned. "Because I'd be surprised Sherlock, really I would." Calvin narrowed her eyes at the back of Moriarty's head. "And just a teensy bit... disappointed."

Sherlock wouldn't kill him, that was something she was positive of. He was too interested. Should he kill him? _Yes_. Would he kill him? _No_. He would wait until the glamour wore off. Calvin stared at her chest as the dots flickered back and forth between her and John. He grabbed her hand again, noticing that she was trembling once more. She gave him a shaky smile of gratitude. He hand was the only thing grounding her.

"And, of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." Moriarty was continuing, beginning to head towards the door.

"By the way... it was just supposed to be John, you know." Jim added as he backpedaled towards the door. "But the pretty lady just made it too _easy_. I thought she would be a nice bonus."

"Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." He said, turning to walk away. Sherlock stared after him, gun trained on his every move.

"Catch you... later." Sherlock said quietly as the door opened. He took a few long, measured steps towards John as he did so.

"No you won't!" Moriarty sand back before the door slammed, as he was gone. Sherlock waited a few seconds, before his eyes returned to John. In a heartbeat the gun was on the ground and Sherlock was kneeling in front of John, grappling with the vest.

"All right?" he demanded, getting the latch loose. "_Are you alright_?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." John said breathlessly as Sherlock removed the coat and the vest, throwing it behind him.

"Sherlock... Sherlock..." Calvin whispered, body trembling as John's hand let go of hers. SHe was going to have a panic attack. Right here. In front of Sherlock. Her breathing came in short gasps, her body flashed hot and then went cold.

"Sherlock, get it off. _Please Sherlock get it off._" she was whispering, legs barely able to keep her up and her voice hoarse and breathless, literally breathless, as she was unable to get suitable air into her lungs. His hands flew to her clasps, shoving the coat and vest off of her shoulders before chucking it in a similar direction, landing next to John's coat.

Calvin collapsed immediately, hitting the ground on her hands and knees and gasping for air. Her head swam with dizziness and nausea, and she felt as if all of her control - and air - had been taken away from her.

Sherlock's face was fuzzy as he appeared, on his knees, in front of her. "You're having a panic attack?" he said with some confusion. Calvin nodded, swallowing down the bile that threatened to escape her throat. His hands braced on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

"Have you had panic attacks before?" he demanded, pressing two fingers to her pulse point on her neck to feel her rapidly accelerating heart rate. She hesitated, but nodded again, unable to speak. John had been unable to keep himself either, though his deep breathing signalled that he was able to calm himself down. His back pressed against the wall. Sherlock touched Calvin's cheek, they felt cold and clammy but her neck was scorchingly warm.

Sherlock tried to get Calvin to look at him again, but she slid away from him, feeling smothered by his close proximity. She joined John on the wall. She was shaking violently, unable to control herself, as she pressed her back to the tile wall, burying her face in her arms.

She heard Sherlock go and check outside for Moriarty or his men before returning, gun still in hand.

"Are you okay?" John asked him.

"Me? Yeah, fine, fine, fine." Sherlock said rapidly in a way that said that he was _not_ fine. He was as rattled by this as John or Calvin were.

Calvin was feeling overwhelmed by this panic attack, however, and coherent thought was not exactly possible. Her mind was jumbled from the violent dizzy sensation that made her stomach turn. Her head pounded with a migraine and her breath was so shallow that she felt that she would surely faint.

It was the worst panic attack that she'd had in a long time. Maybe the worst ever. She'd spent so much time bottling up her emotions, putting on a show for Sherlock and John and the rest of the world, that when her panic attack hit her at full force, they hit her _hard_. She was able to keep them at bay for the most part, but right now... there was no turning back. Calvin knew that it would take her _hours_ to come back, and that was the last semi-coherent thought she had before her shaking became more violent.

"We need to get her home." Sherlock continued somewhere far away for Calvin. "And, uh, that.. that thing that you did... that you offered t-to do... that was, um, good." His voice shook and he was breathing heavily. He was as effected by this as both John and Calvin, he just tried not to show it.

"I'm glad no one saw that." John answered, shifting to the floor.

"Hmmm?"

"You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool." he continued. "People might talk."

"People do little else." was Sherlock's rebuttal, smiling at John who returned it as he began to lift himself off the floor. The red dot appeared on John's chest, the back of Calvin's head in her crouched form, and Sherlock's forehead.

"Sorry, boys... and pretty lady!" Jim called, entering the room once more. His very voice making Calvin whimper,Sherlock's eyes turning to her. She needed medication or, at the very least, to be _out_ of here.

"I'm soo... changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness!" Jim exclaimed, mirth filling his voice. "You can't be allowed to continue."

"You just can't." Jim laughed softly. "I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." Sherlock frowned, not turning to look at Moriarty yet.

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." he said, turning and aiming the gun at Moriarty... only to have it slip down and aim at the two vests lying on the ground. Jim looked unperturbed, John was breathing hard, and Calvin's whimpers echoed across the pool.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at Moriarty.

OoOoOoOoOo

Gawd this was fun to write. I mean I know most of it was canon dialogue, which was tedious because I had the subtitles on on Netflix in Chrome and this open in Word and I was like TYPE TYPE TYPE TYPE DAMN WHAT DID HE SAY TYPE TYPE.

But holy shit Calvin's having a violent panic attack in front of Sherlock, John, and even Moriarty? I mean, Jim already knows everything about her but if you haven't guessed, Calvin kind of has a complex about seeming weak.

I tried not to change too too much about the basic progression of this scene because Mark Gatiss is a fucking genius and his work should not be messed with, but I added in a few things concerning Calvin. But I MADE SURE to leave all of the JohnLock bromance (it's a bromance in this story, guys. It's romance everywhere else. JohnLock 5ever) But John and Sherlock's relationship is a big part of this story.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much asI enjoyed writing it. It's very long, isn't it? I'm sorry. Next chapter starts our journey with Irene, though she will obviously not really be around for a bit.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR LEAVING ME 10 REVIEWS TO WAKE UP TO! I like was so happy when I wake up. If I had 100 reviews when I wake up tomorrow I might just die of happiness. We're so close! I'd like to thank the 106 followers and 56 favoriters and of course the 88 reviewers! You guys rock!

Okay I'm gonna sleep now. Jess is tired. Good night! I love ya'll!

Jess


	15. Chapter 15

ATTENTION. TO KEEP THIS STORY ACCURATE TO CANON, THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL TAKE TWO YEARS TO COME OUT.

LOVE, MARK GATISS AND STEVEN MOFFAT'S PROTEGE,

JESS

OoOoOoOo

_"Sorry, boys... and pretty lady!" Jim called, entering the room once more. His very voice making Calvin whimper,Sherlock's eyes turning to her. She needed medication or, at the very least, to be out of here._

_"I'm soo... changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness!" Jim exclaimed, mirth filling his voice. "You can't be allowed to continue."_

_"You just can't." Jim laughed softly. "I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." Sherlock frowned, not turning to look at Moriarty yet._

_"Probably my answer has crossed yours." he said, turning and aiming the gun at Moriarty... only to have it slip down and aim at the two vests lying on the ground. Jim looked unperturbed, John was breathing hard, and Calvin's whimpers echoed across the pool._

_Sherlock's eyes narrowed at Moriarty. _Their eyes met, Jim's completely at ease and Sherlock's serious and full of intense dislike.

His finger just tightened on the trigger when music started to play.

_Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive._

Sherlock's brow furrowed and he looked around to find the source of the music. Jim stood still for a moment before sighing.

"Do you mind if I get that?" he asked. John stared at him in disbelief and slight irritation.

Sherlock stared at him. "Go ahead, please." he welcomed, eyes narrowed. "You've got the rest of your life." Jim pulled out his phone, checking the ID before answering.

"Hello." Moriarty said, eyebrows knitted together in aggravation at the interruption. "Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He mouthed 'sorry' to Sherlock, turning away slightly. Sherlock, in turn, mouthed 'oh, it's fine' back at him.

He was silent for a moment, turning around and taking a few steps as he listened to whoever was on the other line.

_"SAY THAT AGAIN_." he suddenly yeled, making Calvin scream into her arms. John turned to touch her knee, trying to reassure her. She was still shaking violently and sobs hiccuped throughout the room. John had never seen his friend so vulnerable. He didn't like it. Sherlock sent a concerned glance, knowing that he had to get Calvin out of here so she could recover.

"Say that again," Moriarty started, "And know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will _skin _you." Sherlock glanced back at John in confusion and slight alarm.

"Wait." Jim commanded, putting his finger over the microphone and taking a few steps closer to Sherlock, who cocked the gun.

"Sorry..." h said. "Wrong day to die."

"No. Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock inquired.

Jim glanced down at the phone in his hand. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." he promised, beginning to walk away. "Oh, and take care of that one, will you? She seems to be hysterical." He motioned with his chin to Calvin, huddled against the wall with John's hand on her leg.

He turned fully and headed the other direction. "So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." he clicked his fingers as he headed out the door, and the red sniper dots disappeared from the three's faces and bodies completely.

"What happened there?" John asked, still breathing hard.

"Someone changed his mind..." Sherlock answer softly, still pointing the gun around the room, expecting foul play even now. "The question is... _who_." He stopped to ponder the question for a moment, before he spotted Calvin, still shaking, next to John.

"We need to get her home." he said urgently, dropping to his knees again and handing the gun to John.

"Can she walk?" John asked, pocketing the gun and turning to look at the panicking woman.

"Of course not John, she's experiencing a violent panic attack. I suspect a panic disorder, as she said this is not her first panic attack." he explained, smoothing back her hair to encourage her to look up at him. When she did, very slowly, meeting his blue-green eyes with her own icy blue ones. He grasped her chin gently to get a better look.

"Calvin, can you hear me?" he asked her, noting the vacant look in her eyes. He knew that panic attacks often resulted in one losing their sense of self, having an out-of-body experience, or losing touch with reality.

Slowly, she nodded, though her eyes were slightly unfocused. He nodded, moving slowly to get his arm under her legs and around her back, lifting her up. Her arms immediately went around his neck, needing something to cling on to, and buried her face in his chest.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock..." she whispered through her wracking sobs and trembling voice as he strode out of the building having John call for Lestrade for a car. They couldn't take her in a cab like this.

He glanced down at her, only mildly irritated that her tears were staining his suit. "Is he gone, Sherlock?" she continued, barely able to form words.

"Yes, he's gone." he replied softly.

OoOoOoOo

Calvin woke up much later, only in her undergarments, in what she remembered to be Sherlock's bed. Her head pounded with the remnants of a horrible migraine. She must have passed out. She sat up, glancing at the windows to see only artificial light from the streetlights pouring in. She'd slept a whole day.

As the night - the night with Moriarty - demanded to be recognized in her mind, Calvin groaned, laying back down and dragging the silk sheets over her head in mortification. She'd had a panic attack - a horrible, violent panic attack - right in front of Sherlock and John.

As she remembered the bomb strapped to her chest her breathing became rapid and shallow again, she popped her head up and had to take the time to calm herself down before history repeated itself. She turned on her side to come face-to-face with Sherlock, who had been laying in bed next to her the whole time.

"_Motherf-!" _she yelled, scrambling back and falling off the bed in her alarm. "What the -... you _were_ -... _would you stop that_." She growled from the floor at a very amused Sherlock, who was fighting back a grin at her expense.

"This is _my_ bed." he retorted. Calvin got to her feet shakily, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Doesn't mean you have to sleep in it when I am half naked." she responded haughtily, crossing her arms to cover her half-naked chest, though Sherlock was obviously not interested in her anatomy.

"I do recall that you _begged_ me to stay with you last night, Miss. Baker." he answered, smirking at her in an only _slightly_ mocking fashion. Calvin was even more mortified, but managed to keep it off of her face.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know what I was _saying_, did I? Having a violent panic attack for hours, and all." Calvin hissed, pursing her lips.

Sherlock continued, paying no mind to her argument. "And _then_, you spend most of the night in my arms." he told her. In truth, he had been uncomfortable with the contact throughout the night with unconscious and still-panicking Calvin, but he made do. He needed to sleep off the shock of the night before, anyway.

"Traumatic experience. If it had been John I would have snuggled with John." Calvin argued, running her hands nervously through her hair. Sherlock stood up, still slightly smirking. He stepped towards her, causing her to retreat a few steps.

"Yes, but you specifically asked for _me_." he reminded her, enjoying the rise that he was able to get out of hr in this post-panic attack state. Right now, she was unable to think clearly and hide her emotions from him with her clever guise of aloof and witty remarks. Sherlock knew he was seeing more of the 'real' Calvin.

Calvin huffed, picking up a discarded purple button-down of Sherlock's off the floor.

"What are you doing now?" he asked as she buttoned the middle buttons.

"I don't know where my clothes are and I'd appreciate it if at least _one_ of you doesn't see me in my skivvies today." Calvin growled, fumbling with the small buttons. The purple shirt went almost to her knees, due to the dramatic height difference between her and Sherlock.

"Who do you think helped me get you out of your clothes in the first place?" Sherlock said, obviously still trying to bait her. She glared at him, marching out of the room to find John cooking something in the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're awake. Do you want some -... why are you wearing Sherlock's shirt like that?" John asked suspiciously, eyeing her mussed hair with a critical eye. Calvin's bad mood turned on him.

"Because I don't know where my clothes are and I'd rather not walk around in my _panties_, thank you, John Watson." Calvin snapped. "Why did you remove my clothes, _anyway_."

"You were having trouble breathing and we were worried that your jeans and shirt were constricting you." John answered, looking like a dear in the headlights. "I'm sorry, but that's the honest truth."

"So how long have you had this panic disorder, Calvin?" Sherlock interrupted, throwing on his robe as he entered the living room area.

"What?" Calvin demanded, distracted. "Oh. That. I don't have a disorder, Sherlock, I was in a traumatic situation in which a bomb was strapped to my chest, snipers pointed at my head, and a mad man figuratively pulling the trigger. Please forgive me for not being able to handle that gracefully."

"But you said that you've had these attacks before." John offered, buttering a piece of bread.

"I lived in a high-stress environment in my childhood, I've had them once or twice before." she replied easily, her cool, collected self coming back now. Sherlock eyed her suspiciously.

"How long did I have the attack, though?"

"Five hours. We couldn't calm you down for five hours." John answered, chewing on the bread he'd just buttered. "When we finally did, you passed out with Sherlock in his room and slept, apparently, all day."

"Uh, sorry you had to do that." Calvin mumbled, and John shrugged.

"It's fine. We wanted to help you." he answered with a genuine smile.

Calvin stared at him for a long while. That was not the answer she was expecting. Well, she knew John was kind, but _no one_ had ever been that ready to help her with her panic attacks before.

Or, perhaps, she had never let anyone help her before. At least not after her parents. When she was younger and began to develop the disorder, her parents loathed the fact that she was a nervous child and refused to help her when she had one of her attacks. Her siblings were similar, often teasing her about her nervous and skittish nature.

They were embarrassed of her.

The nervous behavior stemmed from the fact that her mother always wore high-heeled shoes around the house. Heidi Baker was an intense, preofessional, and very pristine person, and when you heard those heels slowly coming up the stairs and down the hall to your bedroom... well, it was enough to set a person on edge. Especially a young, impressionable child like Diana. All of her siblings had grown up with it, as well, and they developped no such anxiety from it. They viewed Diana as a freak growing up, an outcast, weak. There was no weakness in the Baker household.

So she shut it down. She convinced herself that if she just hid it from everyone, ignored the fact that she needed medication and possibly therapy for her anxiety, that she would become _normal_, just like everyone else in her family. Everyone else in the world. The way her family viewed it made it seem like she was the only one in existence with the problem.

So she hid. She hid something that defined her, letting it control her further with her denial. Calvin shut it down, buried it deep, and only allowed herself to let go when she was alone in the house, hidden away in her closet until it passed.

After a while, it became void. She refused to _ever_ let it show, even to herself. Calvin was convinced that nobody could accept her for what she was because nobody ever _had_.

"And I'm sorry for making you share your bed, Sherlock." Calvin said with her usual self-assured smirk on her face. Sherlock blinked before shrugging.

"It won't become a regular thing."he answered, opening the newspaper that he had missed from that morning.

"Well, I'm gonna go home." Calvin said, heading for the door. "Get some painting done. Oh, I missed work today."

"Oh, yeah, they called... you've been sacked. Missed too many days of work, apparently." John told her sheepishly. Calvin stared at him for a moment before shrugging.

"Ah, the struggles of being involved with the great Sherlock Holmes and his psychopath boyfriends." Calvin sighed, not seeming to care as much as she should. "I have enough money as it is, anyway. Besides, this frees up my schedule to help you two more on cases."

Sherlock looked up sharply, as if the idea appalled him. Calvin winked and grinned. "What? You owe me. I was almost killed yesterday." she grinned wider as hehuffed at her. "Don't seem too appalled, Mr. Holmes, I promise it won't require you sleeping near me again." She waved and headed down the stairs to her own flat.

"Don't you get paint on that shirt!" Sherlock yelled angrily, straightening his paper violently.

OoOoOoOo

Whoa fast update! And a good one, too! Look at that fluff! It's adorable. I really do like how Calvin is getting into her niche with Sherlock and John, with John genuinely caring about her and Sherlock also caring, but hating her at the same time.

There's chocolate cake calling my name in the kitchen so I'll keep this brief.

I really hope you liked this chapter! I did. And since there really wasn't much of Calvin in her vulnerable state, Sherlock will eventually probably flashback to that somewhere in the future. So yay!

But yeah please let me know what you thought! The last chapter got me eight more followers! I now have 115 followers. Thanks, you sweethearts! I'm glad you all like my meager attempts at writing Sherlock romance. Or lack of romance. There isn't much romance. BECAUSE IT'LL TAKE A BIT GOD. I want it to happen as much, if not MOOORREEE, than you guys do. But it's slow-going because 1. Sherlock isn't that fond of Calvin 2. Calvin nor Sherlock _do_ relationships and 3. Do you really think Sherlock would 'fall' for someone quickly? No. No he would not.

Okay, I hope your day is going swimmingly! I have to go do AP summer homework now whilst eating chocolate cake! Don't forget to review and let me know how I'm doing! Ciao!

Jess


	16. Chapter 16

During the next few days, Calvin noticed an onslaught of people visiting 221B, not of whom she reognized. However, most of them left within five or ten minutes of being in the apartment. She had been actively avoiding Sherlock for the past few days, though she heard him whenever he went out with John, and Watson came to check on her a few times a day, developing a kind of heightened need to protect her since the Moriarty incident.

She was flattered, and thought it was cute. John was a great friend to her.

Though she was trying to keep away from Sherlock for a little while, concentrating on reconstructing her cool persona and, hopefully, making him forget his suspicions about her anxiety disorders. She was convinced that if he figured it all out that he would be disgusted with her.

One day, however, three teenagers came to her door, looking for Sherlock.

"Hello?" Calvin said, wary, as she answered the door. John would have just texted her to let her know that he was coming for a visit, Mrs. Hudson would call for her, and Sherlock, well, he'd just barge in.

As the three young men spotted her, their eyes bulged and immediately knew that they were at the wrong flat.

"Uh, hi, um, we're looking for, uh, Sherlock Holmes? We need his help." one of them stated hesitantly, not being prepared for a woman at the door.

"That one will give you more trouble than his help is worth, boys," Calvin said with a smile, leaning against the frame of the door and glancing at her ceiling. "Obviously, I'm not him. But I'll take you upstairs." They parted to let her through and followed her up the stairs to Sherlock and John's flat.

"Hello, boys." she said, entering the room. "I have a few clients for you." Sherlock turned and looked the three over, unimpressed. John waved to Calvin, who sat next to him in the other armchair.

"Well, don't waste my time." he barked, and the teenagers began to explain.

"We have this website. It explains the true meaning of comic books, 'cause people miss a lot of things." the forerunner began, and Sherlock immediately became disinterested. "_But_ then all the comic books start coming true!" The teen finished quickly, hoping to catch Sherlock's interest again.

"Oh, interesting." Sherlock said, turning back to them.

"How accurate are the imitations?" Calvin asked, thinking the exact same thing as Sherlock. The boys turned in surprise.

"Almost completely identical to what happened in the story arcs." one of them said. "It ooks exactly like the original panel did."

"Is this like LARPing or murder?" she continued, leaning back in her chair. "Are they just reenacting battles or is Gwen Stacey hanging from the London Bridge - neck snapped?"

The boys seemed startled by the comic book reference. "Maimings and murders." they clarified for her and she looked up at Sherlock. "Interesting." she agreed. He narrowed his eyes at her for interrupting.

She turned back to the boys with a grin. "Just to be clear, Gwen Stacey is _not_ hanging from the London Bridge by her foot, is she? I believe my brothers would be simply traumatized, nobody needs to relive that moment in comic book history."

They smiled. "No, ma'am." Calvin smiled back at them, and winked. Sherlock interrupted her with a series of rapid-fire questions, finding out locations, names, circumstances, and what comics the maimings, murders, or heists had come from. Sherlock ushered them out impatiently after he'd gotten everything he needed.

"I didn't know you had brothers." John commented, interested in her past. It took Calvin a few seconds to gauge how much she could tell John about her past with Sherlock around. She didn't want John to figure out any of her secrets, either, but he was the lesser worry.

"Two older brothers, one older sister, and a younger brother and sister." Calvin clarified, shedding light on her rather large family. "Benjamin, Samuel, Anastasia, Camden, and Violet."

"Big family." John commented, glancing at Sherlock as he paced the room. "Do any of them live in London?"

The answer was yes, that Benjamin and Violet lived in London, while the others had moved away for their jobs or families. She shook her head, however. "No," she answered. "But it's just as well. You wouldn't want to meet any of my pretentious siblings, John. I wish I hadn't met them." Calvin was hiding her siblings' close quarters to herself because she honestly did not want Sherlock sniffing around them to find information.

Of course, if he found out on his own, that was just as well. She just didn't want to give any freebies. He had their names, that was something. Her siblings were all-too eager to share in their sister's failure as a person.

The only good thing that her siblings ever did her was that they passed on their inheritance from their dead parents onto Calvin. She hadn't received any of her own, being the outcast and leaving home at sixteen, but her siblings were all _very _well-off. They pitied Calvin, and signed their (sizeable) inheritance to her.

Calvin obviously resented it, but money was money, and she now had a fortune in her bank account.

John shrugged. "Harry and I don't get along, either." he offered.

"Come along, John." Sherlock interrupted, grabbing his coat and heading out the door.

"Wait a minute, I'm coming!" Calvin called, and Sherlock reappeared, displeased.

"No, you're not. I called for John. Not you." he answered stiffly.

Calvin crossed her arms. "You owe me. I lost my job because of you."

"Yes, well, you didn't seem so devastated the other day." Sherlock answered cheekily, and Calvin chuckled under her breath.

"Okay, Sherlock, how about this; for every case you let me tag along on, I will answer _one_ question that you have for me. Any question, within reason, of course." she said smoothly. She saw Sherlock debate behind his green eyes, weighing the options and benefits.

He stepped forward. "Conditions?"

Calvin grinned. "The questions have to be five words or less, you cannot directly ask me 'why I call myself Calvin' or the like, _one_ question per case, and I can be as cryptic as I like as long as I answer the question." she responded, her grin widening. "Yours?"

Sherlock sized her up. "Seven words. You must answer truthfully - _do not lie to me_ - no matter how personal the question is, I can ask whatever I like as long as it conforms to your conditions, I can ask my questions at any time and they do not expire, and the conditions are subject to change as long as both parties agree." he said quickly, and noticed that John was currently writing down the conditions being outlined.

"Six words." Calvin said, extending her hand to Sherlock, to finalize the deal. He stared at her for a moment before clasping her hand and shaking it firmly. He drew her closer, not letting go of her hand.

"First question," he said in a low voice, "Why do you paint?"

"It's a creative outlet, as well as an emotional one." Calvin answered, glancing down at their still-clasped hands. That was all she was going to tell him, and when he realized this, he released her and turned quickly to head down the stairs. Calvin smirked at John, waiting for him to put on his coat before following Sherlock down the stairs alongside her.

OoOoOoOo

The case was solved in only a few hours, Calvin coming up with the psychological background of the criminal - who had been reenacting heists, and kills, detailed in _X-Men_ comics - while Sherlock figured out the rest, claiming that he already had deduced everything that Calvin was informing him of.

"So, are you now another one of 'Sherlock's Helpers'?" Sally Donovan's voice asked from behind Calvin as she headed out of the Yard with the two men.

"Begrudgingly on his part, yes, I suppose I am." Calvin answered easily, turning to see the woman leaning, arms crossed against the wall by Lestrade's office.

"Here's some advice for you - don't get involved with him." Sally told her, pursing her lips. "He's trouble, and he'll get _you _into trouble."

Calvin thought back to the last few weeks with Sherlock Holmes, her shoulder wound tingling as she felt the imagined weight of the explosive on her chest. "Yes, I know."

Donovan raised an eyebrow. "And that doesn't bother you?" she asked.

Calvin shrugged. "Well, yes, I suppose it bothers me. But I don't think in the same way that it bothers you."

"Do yourself a favor, don't get too involved with him. There's something... not right about that one." she said sourly, looking after the man. "A freak, he is."

Calvin's eyes narrowed slightly at the use of the word. It echoed all across her childhood memory and made her skin crawl and heat up with anger. "And why is he a _freak_?" Calvin asked in a tone that hinted at her displeaure, but, with great self-control, she kept it smooth.

Sally scoffed with a smirk. "No one normal can do what he does."

"And so you call him a freak. Because he doesn't fit your biased definition of 'normal'." Calvin said coldly, and Sally blinked. "Because he's extraordinary."

"What, you fancy him or something?" Sally mocked, and Calvin's anger showed through her disguise at the accusation. Her eyes swept over Donovan's form, pausing at her face and hands.

"You're jealous." she decided, cocking her head and smirking dangerously. "Completely and utterly jealous that someone is better than you. How long did it take you to get into this position, lieutenant? Ten years? Honestly, impressive. I applaud you for your achievement, truly. But that does not give you the right to call someone a freak. Sherlock Holmes may be irritating and he may have a _ranging_ superiority complex, but he is not a _freak_. Don't you dare call anyone a.. a _freak_ because of your insecurites about your own abilities."

Sally glared harshly at Calvin. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she demanded.

"A _freak_." Calvin spat, turning on her heel and marching out of the Yard with as much bravado as she could muster. She wasn't used to giving dramatic, angered speeches and wasn't exactly sure how to exit. She stumbled on the way out.

"God, you're right. Freak number one and freak number two." Donovan called after Calvin, causing her to blink and flinch at the name. Obviously, it was a sensitive topic to her.

"I'll say the same thing I said to Watson; one day there will be a body lying on the ground and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there!" she continued.

"Hopefully it'll be _yours_!" Calvin shouted back, before realizing what she had just said to a high-ranking police lieutenant. Her eyes widened and she hurried to where John and Sherlock were waiting for her.

"What took so long?" Sherlock demanded, eyeing Calvin's heavy breathing and flushed cheeks.

"I may have just... inadvertedly threatened Donovan?" Calvin mumbled, embarrassed that she had let her temper get the better of her. All this practice in keeping her nervous side in... and she still wasn't very good at reining in her anger, especially when it came to being called a _freak_... or anyone being called a freak for that matter.

"I am going to have to formally apologize to her." she muttered, unhappy with herself. To her surprise, however, Sherlock was slightly smiling down at her.

"She doesn't matter." he said nonchalently.

"What happened?" John asked, trying to hail a cab.

"I don't like name calling." Calvin answered with a smile. "Least of all, the name 'freak'."

"That's what she calls Sherlock."

"Yes, I know," she answered, climbing into the cab that stopped on the curb first. "And I am also newly christened 'freak', as it seems." John looked scandalized at the news, however, and glanced back to the Yard with irritation.

"She doesn't matter." Sherlock repeated, and Calvin smiled as she stared out the window, nodding in supposed agreement. But no matter if someone 'mattered' or not in your life. It still hurt. Though she had long become used to being a freak, it would always sting little Diana, still curled in a terrified ball deep inside her mind. Nobody was called a freak in Calvin's presence, it was her duty to protect others, as she was not protected.

OoOoOoOo

Heading home, it was still light out. John immediately cracked his laptop and began typing the blog entry about the case they had just solved.

Calvin collapsed on the couch, cracking one of the books from Sherlock's bookshelf in order to pass the time. She didn't want to be alone right now, and though Sherlock sent her an irritated look, he didn't voice it.

He glanced over John's shoulder. "The Geek Interpreter, what's that?" he asked suspiciously. Calvin looked up, amused.

"It's the title."

"What does it need a title for?"

John only smiled at the question, continuing to type the blog entry. Sherlock huffed and backed away into the kitchen.

OoOoOoOo

Yes, Calvin has a bit of a temper. It mostly is tested with bullying, name-calling, stuff like that. She's protective of other people because of her past. But her mouth can get her in trouble, as well as make her sound overwhelmingly childish and rude. Ah, a horrible flaw to have. Donovan is not going to like her.

It's 3am right now. I'm tired but I wanted to finish this for you guys.

There's gonna be a few more chapters before Irene Adler comes into the picture. And Calvin WILL be meeting her. And I'm excited but also nervous, because I don't know how well I'll be able to write her. Research research research.

Thank ya'll again for all of your wonderful words of encouragement! You've gotten me to over 100 reviews and it really touches me that you guys like this story. Thank you so much, I appreciate all of you so much! 122 followers, as well! D'awwe!:D

I tried drawing Calvin yesterday but then I realized that I'm a writer, not an artist. Bah. Can't draw.

Anyway, I need to sleep now. I'm going to a concert tomorrow and I need to not be dead halfway through the set. Let me know what you thought of this chapter!

Love all of you!

Jess


	17. Chapter 17

Calvin woke up to a crash of thunder the next morning. She gasped at the noise that echoed throughout her flat, and pressed a hand to her chest to monitor her rapidly-beating heart. She had begun to sleep with the lights off again, and as the light from the next flash of lightning illuminated her room, her overactive imagination took over, and all sorts of monsters were now present in her room.

Calvin squeaked as she reached for the lamp, almost knocking it over as she struggled to find the switch. Bright light filled her room, easing her anxiety-ridden mind and calming her heartrate. She now heard the hard rain against her windows, along with the continuing storm sounds. Glancing at her digital clock, she learned that it was only three-forty in the morning. Funny, she'd fallen asleep much earlier today. Usually, it woud be a few more hours until she even got into bed.

Her phone lit up on the stand next to her, and she flung a hand over to pick it up and check the message. It was from an unknown number.

_Hope you're feeling better, lovely lady. Don't miss me too much. By the way, I love the lakeside, too. _

_JM_

Her eyes were only confused for a moment before she recognized the initials. She shrieked, throwing her phone across the floor where it broke into three pieces - back, battery, and phone.

He timed it. He somehow _knew_ she was awake, her mind told her. Coincidences like that wouldn't happen with Jim Moriarty.

Scrambling out of bed, she charged past her half-finished painting of a lakeside and up the stairs to 221B.

She calmed herself slightly before entering the flat, knowing that Sherlock was probably awake. He was, plucking at the strings of his violin as she entered.

"What is it now?" he asked impatiently.

"Got a text from your boyfriend." Calvin informed him, crossing her arms after running a still-shaky hand through her dark hair, pushing her bangs back off of her forehead, which was cold with sweat. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.

"I assume you mean Moriarty." he said, voice wary. "What did he say?"

Calvin thought of her phone, lying in pieces on her floor. "He said he hoped I was feeling better... and... and he commented on a half-finished painting in my flat." she told him, trying not to let her voice crack and show how scared she really was. "He's been in my flat. Either today or yesterday."

"Not necessarily and not likely." Sherlock disagreed, though he did seem at least a bit concerned. "He could just have a camera set up in your house. Maybe more than one."

Calvin frowned, it was a possibility and an improvement over what she had originally thought, but it wasn't a big one. "Wonderful." she said, and Sherlock noted her heavy breathing and pupils, which were extremely dialated, moreso than was needed in the dim lighting.

"Are you having another panic attack?" he asked her, standing up to walk closer. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"No... I'm not going to have a panic attack every time I get scared, Sherlock." she told him carefully, taking a step back from him. "I don't have a disorder." Sherlock watched her for a moment longer, not saying anything.

Calvin cocked her head up at him. "Soo... Can I stay here for the rest of the night?" she asked, not wanting to sleep or even be in her apartment at the moment. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the question.

"If I said 'no', you would still stay." he snorted, returning to his chair and picking up his violin to pluck once more. Calvin chuckled, and took her usual spot on the couch. Sherlock was turned towards her, eyes fixed on the floor in thought. Calvin threw one of her hands behind her head, the other crossed over her chest.

"Do you think that Moriarty has some kind of interest in me?" she asked Sherlock after a few moments of silence.

"Doubtful. Most likely he is contacting you to scare you, in hopes of effecting me." Sherlock answered, not looking up at her. Calvin accepted that, knowing that Sherlock was the person Moriarty was after. He targeted Calvin and John in order to get a rise out of _him_, to effect _him_. To scare him. It was all about Sherlock, but she wanted to know why.

"But it doesn't effect you." Calvin pointed out with a grin. Sherlock huffed, plucking the strings harder.

"No."

"Glad you care."

"You have John for that."

Calvin laughed, shaking her head. She said nothing for an hour, staring at the ceiling. She wasn't able to sleep, still feeling a crawling sensation over her skin at the thought of being watched by Moriarty.

"Why don't you sleep often, Sherlock?" she finally asked. He was still still in his chair, though now he was not plucking at his violin.

"It disrupts my thinking." he answered, as if the break in silence was completely expected. He countered with, "Why do you not sleep until the sun begins to rise? Or should I wait until I let you on today's case to ask questions."

Calvin shrugged. "It's the invasive questions that I answer for those." she said with a small smile. "I consider you my friend, you can ask whatever you like of me. I don't sleep until daylight because I am not tired."

"And to get the complete answer to that, I would have to use a case question." Sherlock said, looking up at her.

Calvin's smile widened and she nodded once. "Yes." she agreed, "But you can still ask me anything you like. I'll answer truthfully."

"But not completely."

"You catch on fast." Calvin winked at him and turned her eyes back to the ceiling. She had closed them, finally, as the sun was peeking in through the windows. It had been a few moments before she asked, "Going to watch me sleep?"

"You catch on fast."

OoOoOoO

Calvin woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs in the apartment. She opened her eyes slowly, and spotted John's back in the kitchen. She sat up with a yawn and a stretch, swinging her legs to the floor.

"Good morning, John." she said, coming up behind him. She spotted the six strips of bacon sizzling in one of the pans while sunny-side up eggs were in the other.

He smiled at her. "'Morning. I made you some breakfast." he said, slipping the bacon and eggs evenly onto two plates. He handed her one and she smiled gratefully at him.

"Aren't you sweet?" she said, pushing aside a few vials of chemicals to set her plate down on the counter behind her, John handing her her fork. She nibbled on the end of a piece of bacon.

"Aren't you going to ask why I slept here last night?" Calvin asked, finishing one piece and starting on the next. John looked up from cutting his eggs, unconcerned.

"What? Oh that's right, you _don't_ live here." John teased and Calvin rolled her eyes at him good-naturedly. "I supposed that you weren't feeling safe in your flat. You're welcome here any time, you know that."

"Moriarty texted me." Calvin informed him, and his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "He commented on the painting I was working on. He's either been in or can see into my flat."

John allowed the eggs to reach his mouth and chewed silently for a moment. "Well, that's not good."

"Actually, I'm quite excited to see him again." Calvin said dryly, reaching for a piece of wheat bread to dip into her yolk. "Have any ketchup?"

"What'd Sherlock say? And... what? No. For _what_?"

"For my eggs?"

John stared at her. "You're a bloody American, I swear to god." he mumbled, and Calvin barked out a laugh as she dipped the crust of her bread into the broken yolk. He repeated his earlier question about what Sherlock had to say about Moriarty.

"Doesn't care, I suppose." Calvin answered with a smirk. "He didn't seem too impressed, probably hopes I get kidnapped again so I don't bother him anymore."

John laughed humorlessly. "He won't get his hands on you again." he said, and Calvin saw something in his eyes that was a promise to Calvin that he would protect her. He remembered how small and helpless his friend had seemed at the hands of Moriarty, he was dead set on never allowing for her to be that afraid again. The soldier in him swore it.

Calvin glanced down at her plate with a knowing smile. "If he wants me, he'll get me, John." she said, her appetite suddenly gone. She played with the remainder of her meal thoughtfully. "But I don't think he wants _me_. He just wants Sherlock."

"He won't _get_ either of you." John insisted, taking Calvin's plate and setting it with his in the sink. "And you're welcome to stay here if you're too uncomfortable to stay in your flat."

Calvin nodded once, saying nothing more and instead changing the subject. The thought of Moriarty was making her heart race. "So, where is the fabulous detective? Out on a solo mission?"

"No, actually, he's asleep." John answered, heading into the living room. The morning paper was on the desk, and he opened it to peruse the headlines. "Has been since before I got up."

"Hm, my sleeping patterns last night must have bored him. Imagine that." Calvin commented, leaning against the doorframe.

John snorted. "He never sleeps. You must have been exceedingly boring to get him to do something so mundane."

Calvin grinned, heading down the steps. "Let me know if you're going to solve another grand mystery later, I'll be up for a little bit of excitement that doesn't include having my life threatened." she said cheerfully, waving as she descended.

"No promises about the life threatening thing, though. We might go after a drug lord tonight or something." John called, and Calvin chuckled. She headed for her door, which was still ajar from her frantic escape earlier that morning. She stepped in warily, staring around the room and checking every closet and crevice for signs of someone else having being there.

Of course, even if he had been there, Moriarty would have left no clues unless he _wanted_ to. Calvin went for her room last, going so far as checking under the bed before declaring the space clear. Of people, at least, she had no idea about cameras. Calvin picked up the three pieces of phone on the ground and pressed them back together, turning it on and noticing a crack on the screen.

There was only a text from one of her old flatmates waiting for her. It was Christofer Mack, the one who had become the head chef in a very prestigious restaurant. He was inviting her to their other flatmate, Chase Sheffield's, performance of _Wicked_. Chase was the understudy of Fiyero, and would have the chance to take the role only for the night because the normal actor's wife was in labor.

_Bring some friends, if you have any._ _Annabelle, Saria, and myself will all be there and we have FRONT ROW tix. (three extra for you if you have friends) Please come - we miss you. _

Calvin smiled at the bit of teasing in the text, and glanced up at the ceiling. She wondered if John would like to go. She already knew Sherlock's answer. The show was tonight and Calvin was sure that there would probably be a case to solve. She decided to ask anyway.

Entering her living room, however, she felt watched again.

"Hello?" she called into the empty space, only to have her phone buzz in her hand. Unknown number.

_Hello, Diana._ -_JM_

Calvin felt her body begin to shake, nausea taking over her stomach as her legs failed her and she stumbled to catch herself on the wall. She gripped her phone, her eyes blurring with tears as she read the text. It was too much.

_Don't _panic_, now_. -JM

was the next text to buzz through in her hand. She needed to get out of here. She felt trapped within these four walls of her living room, helpless, under the microscope. She hurried to the sink to empty her breakfast into it. She turned on the water when she'd finished, washing out her mouth rapidly before sinking to the floor in fear and pain.

Her shoulder tingled, her chest felt heavy, and her eyes were unfocused.

"Get out of my head." she said into the emptiness of her flat. She was not surprised when the next text came.

_I'm not in your head, pretty lady. Just your flat. -JM_

"Jesus Christ."

_Just call me Jim. -JM_

Calvin felt her body begin to tremble, bringing her knees to her chest and heaving in what felt like big gulps of air, but were really shallow breaths. Black spots danced in her vision, and she forced her lungs to take in more air.

"Stop it."

To her surprise, he did. No more texts signed JM came in. Calvin wasn't sure if he was really in her flat or if he was just playing with her, but she had no intention to find out. Scrambling to her feet as best she could, she drank some water straight from the tap to help calm her down.

Glancing at the stove clock, it read 3:45. It had been three hours since she'd come down from 221B. Time moved different when she was having an attack. Calvin had been trembling on the ground for three hours. When she headed for the door, John and Sherlock were coming in.

"Bonjour," Calvin said, leaning against the staircase with a smile. "Where were you lot."

"Out on a case. Sorry, I came to your door but you didn't answer. I guessed you went out." John apologized and Calvin shrugged.

"I was painting with my earbuds in." she lied, covering up yet another panic attack. "Hey, did you want to go see a show with me tonight? I have front row seats to _Wicked_ at the West End."

"No." Sherlock said immediately, heading up the stairs.

"I knew that. I was asking John." Calvin told him with a chuckle, following him up the stairs. John shrugged.

"Sure. Can I bring Angeline?" John asked, speaking of his new girlfriend that he had started dating a few weeks prior. Calvin smiled and nodded.

"You _are_ invited, Sherlock, just to be clear." Calvin said to him as he began throwing his coat and scarf onto the place where Calvin usually sat, as if discouraging her from staying long by sitting there.

"What for? Mindless entertainment?"

"You'd rather sit here and mope while you watch bad telly?" John said, rolling his eyes. Sherlock huffed, picking up the newspaper.

"Shame. You'd get to meet my family." Calvin said, baiting Sherlock slightly. He glanced up.

"You don't speak with your family." he dismissed.

"I think I've mentioned before that my friends are my family, Sherlock... or did you miss that?" Calvin teased, pushing his coat aside to sit on the couch, much to his irritation. "I'll treat this like a case and you can ask me a question."

This caught Sherlock's interest somewhat. He seemed to be considering it.

"And, Sherlock, there was that slight lead today about the area around the West End." John added from the kitchen. That caught Sherlock's interest more.

"I can go there any time for that." he dismissed, though he seemed just a tad more hesitant this time. He was wondering why they even wanted him to _go_.

"It'll be fun, Sherlock. Come on." John goaded and the detective huffed.

"No." he growled again, his final answer. Calvin shrugged.

"That's fine." she said easily, smiling as she stood up. "I suppose that I've bothered you two enough for now. Annabelle will send us a town car around seven to take us to the West End to meet them. Do look nice." With that, she headed back down the stairs to head outside to sit on the porch. She would get ready later, right now she needed some serious fresh air.

OoOoOoOo

I meant to get this out four hours ago in time for Benedict's 37th birthday... but alas I did not. I'm sorry it took me a few days! I was having trouble writing it. Bah.

Sooo next chapter you guys get to meet Christofer, Chase, and Saria, the three other roommates of Calvin before she moved in 221C. They would have a lot of information on Calvin, Sherlooooock. Why won't you gooo

Anyway, it's late I'm tired, so I'll leave you be. I love all of your reviews and favorites and follows, and I appreciate them so very much! Thank you for enjoying my work! I enjoy it too:) Don't forget to let me know how you liked this chapter, as well as contribute anything you'd like to see or think you're gonna see in the future. I love you all!

Jess


	18. Chapter 18

Calvin was ready to leave just as John called her, saying that the car was waiting for them. It actually wasn't a _car_, however, Annabelle had gotten a limousine. She always did like to be flashy.

Calvin glanced around the room nervously as she left, half-expecting Moriarty to comment on her appearance. Her phone stayed silent and she calmed herself down. Tonight was going to be fun. She swept out of her room in the long, black dress she'd chosen for this glamorous night, locking the door behind her. The dress was strapless, tight on the torso but flowing loosely past the hips to her ballet flats - she didn't like heels. It was modest, covering her chest and back completely. Calvin still had the gunshot wound on her shoulder, but it was healed enough to have the bandage taken off just for the night.

Her hair was curled loosely, and she had a tad more make up on than usual, but the change wasn't that dramatic. The look on John Watson's face when she appeared, however, suggested otherwise

"Hi, I'm Calvin." she said to the woman standing in a short yellow dress next to John, sticking out her hand. "You must be Angeline."

The woman smiled, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you, uh, Calvin." she said with a bit of confusion to her voice. Calvin was very used to this reaction, however.

"And you, Dr. Watson, look very dapper this evening." she complimented, taking in the nice suit he was wearing. Calvin glanced out the door to see the driver waiting patiently for them. She gestured with her head and headed for the street when footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her.

She glanced back to see Sherlock, a sour look adorning his face, descending the stairs as he fiddled with his cufflink. Angeline turned to Calvin.

"Is that your date?" she asked.

Calvin chuckled. "Ah, no. That's Sherlock." she answered, amused by the question. "Decided to come, after all?" He glowered at her as he pushed past the group to head to the limousine first. Calvin followed, with John and Angeline right behind her.

"Good evening, Miss. Baker, and her friends." the driver said politely, holding the door open for them. Calvin thanked him, climbing in after a very rude Sherlock. She sat next to him so that John and Angeline could sit on the opposite side together.

The ride to the West End was longer than expected and mostly full of uncomfortable silence - well, uncomfortable for Angeline, mostly. Calvin was oblivious to it, John was used to it, and Sherlock was causing it. She seemed incredibly relieved when the ride was over and they were being let out right in front of the theater.

Calvin and the three others headed into the lobby, where she was immediately attacked by Annabelle. John was alarmed at first before he recognized the blonde hair and the squealintg voice.

"Hello, Annabelle." Calvin grunted, catching her footing. The blonde woman smiled her thousand-watt smile that seemed to zero-in on Sherlock.

"So _this_ is your boyfriend, then?" Annabelle cooed, wiggling her fingers at Sherlock. At dinner, she had mistaken John for Calvin's boyfriend at first. Calvin smiled, shaking her head.

"No, Annabelle, you know I don't date." she replied, "This is Sherlock Holmes."

"The one from the papers?" Annabelle shrieked, striding closer to get a better look at the detective, who look positively scandalized. "I am a _huge fan_, Sherlock! It's nice to meet you, truly!"

John elbowed Sherlock as he ignored the woman. He forced a smile and a nod, satisfying Annabelle.

"And you have already met John, and this is his date, Angeline." Calvin introduced. John nodded and Angeline gave a little wave to the overactive woman.

"Oh! Oh! Christofer and Saria are waiting for us! Come along!" Annabelle gripped Calvin's hand dragged her through the lobby, John and the others following closely behind. Christofer and Saria were waiting in the seats.

"Calvin." Saria called, standing up to hug her gently. Calvin smiled at her friend, stepping back to look at her. Still serious as ever with only a slight smile on her thin lips. She had cut her red hair much shorter, into a pixie cut suitable for easy and professional-looking styling for work. She never had patience for her long hair, nor the time now that she was a lawyer.

"Oh, my beautiful Calvin!" Christofer's deep voice declared from behind her, wrapping her in a hug from behind. He smelled of bakery and some kind of cologne that made her head dizzy. He pecked her cheek.

Saria's serious eyes came to rest on Calvin's new friends, judgementally sizing them up. "I thought you didn't date." she said, voice calculating as she guessed that John and Angeline were a couple, leaving Calvin with Sherlock.

"I don't, and neither does he."

"A shame, to be sure." Christofer said, winking in Sherlock's direction. Calvin rolled her eyes good-naturedly, nudging him with her hip as she went to stand with her other friends. Christofer was bisexual and _very_ flirty with anyone he came into contact with. He'd once tried to woo Calvin... to not avail, obviously.

"This is Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, my friends from Baker Street." she introduced. Recognition lit up in Saria and Christofer's eyes at the name 'Sherlock Holmes', having heard about in recently in the papers.

"And this is Angeline Campell." John said, placing his hand on the small of her back. She gave a little wave to everyone. The two seemed too engrossed in Sherlock, however, to care. Annabelle had a 'I knew something you didn't know!' kind of look on her face.

"I read your blog, Dr. Watson." Saria said a-matter-of-factly, taking her seat between Christofer and Annabelle. "It's... interesting. I would consider it rubbish if it weren't so painstakingly detailed. Chase thought that it was a piece of fiction at first."

John nodded, unable to figure out if she was complimenting him or criticizing him. "Uh, thank you." he said uncertainly.

"Oh, I'm not complimenting you. I'm simply commenting." Saria said bluntly, opening her pamphlet and reading over the cast with a critical eye. John glanced at Calvin, who shrugged apologetically. She sat next to Christofer, with Angeline next to her, then John, and then Sherlock sitting, arms crossed, at the end.

The lights dimmed to almost complete darkness, signalling the show was about to begin. The producer stepped onto the as the dragon's eyes began to glow red.

"Thank you all for attending this fabulous performance of _Wicked_. Tonight, George Listell, our usual Fiyero, will be replaced by Chase Fielder. George's wife is currently in labor, expecting a baby boy by tomorrow morning. Please keep her in your thoughts for a safe delivery and enjoy the show."

She smiled and stepped off stage. Within a few moments, the flying monkeys began crawling around the stage. Annabelle cooed in delight as one scrambled past them right in front of the pit. She wiggled her fingers at the actor, who paused for a split second to look at the beautiful woman before continuing. Annabelle giggled, and Calvin could almost see the wheels turning in her head. She hoped to meet the actor later.

OoOoOoO

"_When you're dancing... through life!_" Chase was singing, hanging off the statue in the middle of the stage, all the chorus standing around him adoringly. "So! What's the most... swankified place in town?"

Calvin chuckled softly at her friend's line. He was usually so quite and reserved, never really having a girlfriend or even being able to talk to girls besides his roommates. But now, he was the heartthrob, which amused Calvin. His self-assured grin seemed out of place to Calvin, but to the audience it was right at home on his handsome face.

She glanced down to her left to see Annabelle at the edge of her seat, trying to sneak a wave to Chase as he approached the front of the stage. Saria was on her phone, probably dealing with one of her cases with a bored look on her face, and Christofer caught Calvin's eye, grinned and winked at her.

Looking to the other side, John and Angeline were holding hands, with the woman leaning her head affectionately on John's shoulder. Sherlock hadno expression on his face, but Calvin could tell from his posture and clenched hands in his lap that he was not enjoying the show.

OooOoOoOo

"_As long as you're mine..._" the very pretty Elphaba was singing before capturing Chase's lips in a kiss. Calvin had to remind herself many timesthat when Chase was on stage, he was Fiyero - not himself. Although he was doing a very good job, it was hard to lose yourself in a theater production when you've seen a lead half-naked singing drunken karaoke.

Christofer's fingers were dancing across Calvin's thinly clothed thigh as the sensual song continued. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned flirtatiously.

"You look stunning, m'dear." he leaned down to whisper in her ear. Calvin shoved his hand off of her leg with a roll of her eyes. He laughed softly, replacing his hand upon his other on his knee. "Don't look so scandalized. If your tall, dark, and handsome friend were in your place, I'd have taken him to the broom cupboard by now."

Calvin barked a laugh that made heads turn in her direction indignantly. She shook her head with a knowing smile on her face, holding down the rest of her laughter. Christofer gave her a bemused look, returning his eyes to the stage once more. Calvin found the thought of Sherlock going off to the broom closet with Christofer to be_ very _amusing. The thought of Sherlock going off with _anyone_ to snog was actually very amusing. Although she was sure he had had girlfriends, or possibly boyfriends, in the past as she herself found him undeniably attractive, just... it was _Sherlock_. He had seen her mostly naked and there was no interest ever evident in his eyes. Of course, that could simply mean he liked men, but Calvin didn't detect anything but friendship between him and John. Sherlock just didn't seem to show sexual or romantic interest of any kind.

She glanced over at him and found him looking at her with the same blank expression as he had regarded the stage. She turned up the corners of her mouth at him before returning her baby blues to Elphaba and Cha- _Fiyero._

OoOoOoOo

The crowd was going insane as each member of the cast came out to take their bow at the end of the performance. When Chase came out, swaggering in all of his Fiyero glory, Annabelle and Christofer went absolutely nuts - screaming at the top of their lungs. Chase broke character for a moment, looking bashfully down at his friends in the front row. Saria had put down her phone to clap whole-heartedly for her friend, and Calvin put two fingers to her lips to whistle. An uneven and very red blush started at Chase's neck as he fell back to wait for the final bow.

When the bows were over, an usher came to escort the group to meet the cast backstage. Annebelle led, talking animatedly with Christofer about the attractive chorus members that she spotted. Saria walked with her head bowed over her phone, her texting almost non-stop. John and Angeline were holding hands and talking quietly to one another. Calvin stayed in the back with Sherlock, who seemed as if he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Didn't like the show?" she teased, noting his sour expression. He glanced down at her.

"Relationship with your pansexual friend?" Sherlock asked, wording it a bit awkwardly to keep it within the six-word condition and ignoring her question to ask his 'case question' that she had promised him. Calvin chuckled softly.

"We had sex twice in college. Neither time was I sated, before you ask. He's always expressed wanting to be romatically involved, but I never saw him that way. Christofer is... stubborn, though." she explained, having no qualms about explaining her sexual history with Sherlock. Calvin realized that he was only collecting data on her, he wasn't truly interested in her endeavors.

"Which is why he stares at you. And touches you."

"I suppose so, yes. But he's my friend, and he understands that I intend to keep that title intact. Actually, it seems that he has his eye on _you_, now."Calvin teased, looking up at Sherlock through her lashes. He snorted indignantly.

"That's what I said." she responded as the group entered a lounge-like area where the cast was currently cooling down after a performance well-done. Calvin immediately spotted Chase pacing nervously in the middle of the room.

"Chase!" Annabelle's voice squealed, causing every head to turn in her direction as she raced into actor's arms. He staggered back, being a slight man, but was able to catch his footing. Christofer approached him in a similar manner while Saria and Calvin walked calmly to him.

"Calvin," he breathed, spotting her from between Christofer and Annabelle. When he released him, his arms were around his friend, whom he had been missing. He rested his chin on top of her head.

"You were glorious." she assured him, stepping back out of his embrace. He looked bashful at the compliment.

"Y-you think so?" he asked timidly, smiling with a sheepish edge to it. If you hadn't just seen him performing an arrogant and outspoken heart throb of a character, you would have never expected this shy man to be able to be anything but lovely. Calvin smiled at him, nodding in reassurance.

"Yes, a wonderful performance on your part, Chase." Saria said, stepping up to peck her friend on the cheek, glancing away from her phone momentarily. "The Glinda, however, was forced and out of her range of talent." The blonde woman who performed as Glinda snapped her head in Saria's direction. If the pixie-haired woman noticed, she didn't care. Calvin chuckled softly under her breath, having seen the comment coming as well as the reaction from the leads in earshot.

"And Elphaba was flat through the whole production." Saria continued, glancing over with a bored expression at the still-green woman's deathly glare. She met the glower with an impassive expression. "Honey, it's not my fault if it's true."

"Okaay!" Annabelle chirped before Saria insulted the rest of the cast. She had found the flying monkey cast member from before, who was currently still garbed in green Emerald City clothing. Christofer was undressing a group of women and men with his eyes.

"Chase, did you know that our darling Calvin has become friends with _the_ Sherlock Holmes?" she informed him, changing the subject. Chase glanced over timidly at the intimidating man standing with John.

"Who?" he asked in a small voice. Sherlock's expression was unreadable, but Calvin knew that he was probably irritated by Chase's lack of recognition.

"He's in the papers, a, uh, detective?" Christofer murmured to him, eyes not straying from the men and women.

"Oh, uh, I haven't had much time to read the papers lately.. with, um, rehearsal. I-I'm sorry." Chase said apologetically, wide-eyed and clearly intimidated beyond belief. Calvin touched her fingertips to his arm.

"It's fine. It doesn't matter." she said soothingly, and Chase smiled down at her. Sherlock looked positively scandalized by how Calvin said that he 'didn't matter'. Calvin pulled Chase closer to John and Sherlock.

"John, Sherlock, this is Chase." she introduced, and Chase immediately stuck his hand out to shake John's hand - he seemed nicer than Sherlock. John smiled warmly.

"John Watson. Wonderful performance." he said kindly, he returned his hand to Angeline's, who introduced herself as John's girlfriend.

"Pleased to meet you too, Mr. Holmes." Chase gulped, sticking his hand out to shake Sherlock's hand as well. He ignored it, opening his phone to send a text. When John's pocket vibrated, it was easy to tell who he had been texting.

"Uh, do you all wanna grab a drink or something?" Chase asked the whole group. Saria, Annabelle, and Christofer all agreed, looking expectantly to Calvin and her new friends. She glanced at John and Angeline, who looked ready to go home, and to Sherlock who had obviously wanted to leave this whole night.

"Raincheck?" Calvin asked apologetically. Christofer and Annabelle immediately started to pout, while Saria gave her a quizzical, yet suspicious look. Chase just looked crestfallen.

"Why not?" Saria asked accusingly. She had been the one who was most insulted by Calvin's decision to move away from them, and had always been critical of Calvin. She shrugged.

"We've had a long day." Calvin answered easily, a cool edge to her voice. Saria sized her up suspiciously.

"You don't galavant the streets with those two solving Scooby-Doo mysteries, then?" she asked, exasperated.

Calvin smiled with closed lips. "I never galavant. Prance, maybe."

"Calvin, you are a _psychology professor_. Act like one."

"Okay, mother." Calvin said in a low voice, still completely calm but with just a very slight edge to it that everyone caught on immediately. Saria's eyes flashed with slight regret as everyone involed stopped to look at Calvin - it wasn't good when she compared anyone to her mother. Annabelle and Christofer's faces were completely serious now, and Chase looked sad.

"I'm just _saying_ that what he does is not within police protocol. It's _illegal_? One that is not professionally involved with the police or even in the department is not supposed to have access to police files, which he must have to be able to work with the Yard on crimes." Saria continued, her voice turning completely professional as the lawyer in her surfaced. "He is going to get you into trouble. You're basically looking for it."

Calvin remembered her multiple injuries and panic attacks that had ensued since she started being associated with Sherlock. Yep, being involved with him brought her endless trouble, but it was just so _interesting_. Instead of admitting this, Calvin deflected it.

"I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me."

"And there she goes with the _Harry Potter_ again..." Saria muttered to herself, irritated. "Look - I don't _like_ it."

"You don't have to. Good night, everybody." Calvin said formally, turning with her dress fluttering around her heels as she headed back the way they came. John followed with Sherlock taking long strides a few steps behind them.

"Sorry." Calvin said finally when they hopped in a cab to take them home. First they'd be stopping at Angeline's where John would be staying the night, and then back to Baker Street for Sherlock and Calvin. "This was supposed to be fun."

"It was fun." John assured her, with Angeline nodding in agreement. "Really. Everyone has spats with their frie- family." He corrected himself by using the term family, since Calvin had told him that that was the way she viewed those four people. She leaned her head back on the seat, staring up at the blank roof of the cab.

"I suppose."

OoOoOoOoOo

I'm sorry it took me so long to finish writing this! I meant this to be out like two days ago, but I got busy and then lazy but then I pushed through it and finished this! It was mostly to introduce you all to Chase, Saria, an Christofer, who play and have played a major role in Calvin's life. I love writing Saria because she literally says everything she thinks. Like fuck you I'm Saria, I make six digits as a lawyer. Deal with it.

Okay I'm seriously tired and I need to just pass out now. Will I never not be tired? Probs not. Thanks again for all of your support and for all of your kind words and input! I appreciate all of you so much and I adore you!

Don't forget to let me know how you felt about this chapter and even answer this question; who is your favorite so far of her old roommates? Just curious!

Love ya'll!

Jess


	19. Chapter 19

"_This _is your living, Sherlock. Not... 240 different types of tobacco ash." Calvin heard John saying as she climbed the stairs, heading up to 221B with a cup of herbal tea in her hands.

"Two-hundred and forty-three." she teased as she entered the flat, saying at the exact same time as Sherlock. He glared at her as he started up his blowtorch, striding into the kitchen to do... something. Whatever it was, Calvin didn't want to be involved. Angry Sherlock with a blowtorch didn't sound fun.

"What are you writing about?" she asked John, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh. That's why he's not happy."

"People want to hear that Sherlock's human." John explained, taking Calvin's mug from her to take a sip before handing it back. She smiled, amused.

"That's a good idea. Don't let the public believe that he's a god, even if he thinks he is." she teased, raising her voice a bit so that Sherlock could hear her. Turning to glance behind her, she spotted Sherlock brandishing the blowtorch intimidatingly at whatever he was working on. She smirked. His phone rang, and Calvin glanced around to find it nestled in the armchair. She picked it up, seeing Lestrade's name on the screen.

"Hello, Lestrade." she said happily, answering before Sherlock had entered the room.

"Sherlock?"

"Sherlock's voice is several octaves lower than mine, Greg. It's Calvin." she said, trying to hide a smile.

"Where's Sherlock?"

Calvin glanced up, noticing Sherlock very close to her, glowering down from his several half foot above her. She smirked. "He's currently busy trying to burn a hole through my head. What's up?"

"We need you down at the West End. We're in the theater... there's been a murder."

"He'll be thrilled. We'll be there soon." Calvin pushed away the hand that reached for the phone. "And in the future, Sherlock prefers to text."

"Alright, alright... wait, what do you mean we?"

Calvin smiled. "We'll see you soon, Lestrade." she hung up, handing the phone to a positively livid Sherlock. He glowered at her, snatching it away with more force than was completely necessary. Calvin grinned at him.

"You have a new case, Sherlock." she said. "A murder, how lovely." Her voice was cheerful, but obviously a bit teasing. His interest was piqued at 'murder'.

"Where?" he demanded, throwing off his mask and putting down the blowtorch in the kitchen.

"West End theater." Calvin answered, following Sherlock as he headed for the steps. She heard John close his laptop and hurry after them. They climbed into the cab and were on their way to meet Lestrade. John paid for the cab and they climbed out, and Lestrade was waiting for them in the lobby. He nodded to them.

"Follow me." he said, heading for the yellow police tape that marked off the main theater. "It was a young performer, shot point-blank in the head... no fingerprints and the cameras have no footage of the murder. He just showed up today - dead - backstage. Poor chap, he was really young." Sherlock seemed uninterested, only worried about how and who killed the man, not the man who was killed.

Calvin glanced at John as they ducked under the tape and followed Lestrade backstage. This was a lot like what they did just a few days ago, when they saw Chase in the show. They passed the lounge that they had met the cast of the show in, and went straight for the area behind the curtains.

Lestrade stopped right in front of the dead man, a few officers milling about. Anderson and Donovan were speaking quietly in the corner of the room, Donovan sparing Calvin a poisonous look. The three had barely stopped in front of the body to take a look, when Calvin turned on her heel and exited the room in a rush. John called after her, confused, before Sherlock said his name quietly.

"Where is she..." he started, turning to look down at Sherlock, who was kneeling next to the body. In doing that, he realized that he recognized the body and he understood Calvin's reaction.

It was Chase, the nervous man who had played Fiyero. His dark eyes were blank and unseeing as they stared up at the ceiling and his blonde hair stained with blood. John had to look away, this scene reminding him too much of his friends who had gone down in Afghanistan.

"Jesus Christ." he sighed, looking behind him to where Calvin had disappeared. Sherlock looked up, unconcerned.

"She'll be fine." he assured him, standing up.

OoOoOoOo

Calvin was leaning on the wall next to a toilet in someone's dressing room, taking deep breaths and trying to keep herself from being sick again. Tears stained her cheeks and dripped down onto her light blue shirt, leaving dark stains there. Her hands clutched in her hair, pulling strains from follicles with the force as sobs and gasps for air wracked through her trembling body.

_Chase. Chase. Chase. Chase. No. _

The only two words she knew, forehead pressed painfully against her knees in an attempt to keep herself from slipping into another panic attack, but her shallow breathing and trembling body made it clear that her mind wasn't listening. Her face was dripping with tears as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She slipped it out of her jeans with a shaking hand to see just the words,

_Love, JM_

It took her a minute to realize what the two words meant. It was like a signature on a gift or on a card. _Love, JM. _He had killed Chase, for reasons Calvin couldn't grasp but she _knew_ that he had done it. Not personally, no, but he had _done it_.

She leaned over the toilet once more, bile rising in her throat. Choked sobs echoed throughout the bathroom and her head was feeling dizzy. Chase didn't deserve it, it was meant for Calvin. Moriarty was messing with her head, she knew that, but she never would have guessed that he would go to murder someone for her attention. She should have, of course, because Jim Moriarty didn't have a line to cross. There was no point that Moriarty wouldn't go to.

When Calvin became aware of her surroundings again, she was on the other side of the bathroom, back pressed against the concrete wall. Her body was covered in cold sweat, and she couldn't remember how she'd gotten to this side of the room. The panic attack was over for now, but her guilt and grief were just starting to hit her with full force. Before, she'd been too engulfed in her panic to clearly remember the situation. But now, her chest felt heavy and empty at the same time, and more meaningful tears were slipping down her face.

Pounding sounded at the bathroom door. Calvin had locked it when she came in, not wanting to be disturbed in her most fragile moments. She didn't answer. In the next second, the lock was picked and Calvin knew who was entering.

Sherlock was unsure of what to say. He knew that she needed some kind of emotional reassurance.. but he had none to give. That was John's department, but he had insisted that Sherlock go find Calvin instead of him this time.

He cleared his throat. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and still rather formal. He knew the answer, of course, but this question was asked universally when one was upset. Even if the asker knew that the victim was not okay... it was still asked.

"Peachy." Calvin muttered, wiping her eyes fruitlessly with the already-wet back of her hand. "Moriarty killed him. He texted me."

Sherlock stopped just in front of her. "I know."

Calvin scowled. "Then go do something about it." she snapped uncharacteristically. Sherlock noted the change.

"There is nothing I can do until he wants me to be able to do something. You know that." Sherlock answered, hesitating before crouching down to Calvin's level. "I am sorry."

Calvin's eyes met Sherlock's for a brief second before she cast them to the floor. "You didn't kill him." she murmured, excusing the apology that she wasn't certain he meant, tears dripping onto her shirt now. Sherlock didn't say anything, but noticed subtle differences in Calvin's face and body language that suggested to him that she'd had another panic attack. He put a hand under her chin to lift her eyes to his.

"You've had another panic attack." he told her, as if she didn't already know.

"Not this again, Sherlock, not right now." Calvin growled, wiping her eyes more forcefully and wretching his wrist from her chin. Sherlock cocked his head, looking up into her eyes. He brushed his falling wrist against her leg and felt tremors that were not from her crying.

"You did."

"Why does it _matter_, Sherlock? Right now, why does it _matter_." Calvin demanded, feeling sick to her stomach from the knowing look in his eyes. He had decided it.

"Because you want me to figure you out."

"I don't have a panic disorder, _okay_." Calvin snapped, running a hand desperately through her hair. Not now. _Not now_.

"Did you have a panic attack?" Sherlock asked, using the question that he'd earned from allowing her to come on this case. He said it in the way that Calvin knew what he meant, that their agreement bound her to answer truthfully.

"_No_. Stop asking me."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." Sherlock said softly, and Calvin shot up from her place huddled on the floor.

"Stop it." she said, with a note of plea in her voice that was absent before. She pushed past Sherlock and headed for the door. He trotted after her, barring her way with his hand pressed firmly against the wood, keeping her from opening the door.

"I'm close aren't I. I'm close to _something_."

"Sherlock. My friend - no, my _brother_ - has just been murdered by a man who threatened my life, your life, and John's life mere _days _ago. Does your fixation with my name really have priority here?"

"Yes."

"You really don't care about anyone but yourself, do you?" Calvin accused quietly, her voice was low and dangerous as it had been with Donovan. Sherlock stared at her silently, not willing to answer the question, if he indeed possessed an answer to give. His eyes were calculating as he gazed down at her, and she up at him.

"Only the work matters to me, you know that." he answered finally. "And I think - I _know_ - that you have a panic disorder. And it is in some way connected to your name, and I think-" Sherlock's deduction was cut off as Calvin pressed her lips firmly against his moving ones. Her eyes were closed and his were open, staring down at her with a slightly furrowed brow. Her lips were as unmoving and unresponsive as his, and when she pulled away, her face was expressionless. She removed his hand from the door without another word and slipped out.

Sherlock followed a few seconds later, looking after Calvin as John enveloped her in his arms, whispering apologizes in her ear as she sobbed into his jacket. Emotion, what she needed. Sherlock had, admittedly, gone to Calvin on his own. He knew that he could take advantage of her state and find out new information about her and her condition. He couldn't give her the emotional comfort that she desired, so he used that against her.

"We're gonna get you out of here, okay?" John asked her comfortingly. Calvin took a shaky breath and nodded into his shoulder. "It'll be okay, I promise."

Calvin pulled away from John's arms to find Sherlock standing next to them. She wiped her tears away and didn't spare him a second glance as they headed to the door. She hadn't kissed him because she felt something or had feelings for him, more or less she kissed him to shut him up. He was coming too close to home with his analysis, and she knew that kissing him - something he wouldn't expect from her - would stop his train of thought long enough for her to escape. Actually, she didn't know that it would stop him. But she'd seen it done in movies - albeit with more romantic intentions - so it was worth a shot.

Lestrade lead them to the door, warning the three about press that were very interested in getting pictures of Sherlock and John. The men wore hats, and Calvin snagged a scarf to hide her own face at Sherlock's suggestion. John removed his arm from around her, in an attempt to keep rumors from spreading.

They strode out into more than a few reporters. Sherlock pulled up his collar to hide his face, and Calvin brushed her bangs in front of her eyes and pulled the scarf up a bit. None the less, their faces would be across a half dozen newpapers by morning.

They got into a cab, escaping the press and heading home. "Do you want anything to eat or something? Can I get you anything?" John pressed, leaning across the seat to pat her knee. It reminded Calvin of the way he kept contact when they were at the pool, to reassure her that he was there. She sighed, tears rising in her eyes again.

"I just want to go home, John. I just want to go home."

OoOoOoOoOo

Lalalalala.

Lalalalalalalalaaa

La la la la la la laaa

Don't be mad at me.

For how long this took or for what I did. I'm sowwy but it had to happen. At least I didn't pull a Supernatural! He was only in one chapter. But I sincerely hope you were sad because that means I did my job right. I mean, I was sad, too. I like Chase.

And I won't even discuss the kiss. You don't wanna talk about something like that.

Nope.

Boring stuff, eh.

Okay I'm done rambling. I'mma go back to playing Pokemon. Who wants to battle because yolo. Okay let me know what you thought about this chapter in the reviews, and were you sad that Chase is dead? By the way, Christofer is my favorite, too.

Anyway.

Bye, I guess.

I love you all!

Jess


	20. Chapter 20

Calvin woke up in her own bed for once, sun shining through the windows and legs tangled hopelessly in the sheets. Her mind was a jumble from the day before, but two things stuck out clearly; Chase was dead, and she had kissed Sherlock.

Calvin froze on the second one, remembering the exact moment clearer than anything else. But why? It didn't mean anything. They didn't fancy each other. Actually, Sherlock borderline hated the woman and she took joy in irritating him. Not exactly a breeding ground for romance.

Shaking her head, Calvin untangled herself from the sheets and plopped out of bed. She grabbed her phone as she headed to the kitchen to make tea and a poptart, collapsing at the kitchen table in mental and emotional exhaustion.

Last night, John had called Annabelle, Christofer, and Saria for her, informing them of Chase's fate. The funeral date was promptly set for a week from yesterday by Saria, and the body was currently at St. Bart's for an autopsy that Calvin knew would show nothing that they didn't already know. The case would close with no real evidence of who killed him, and Moriarty would revel in Calvin's suffering.

Without realizing it, Calvin had started sobbing once more. Her face was buried in her hands and her cries were desperate and full of despair. The last thing she had said to Chase was a cold 'good-bye'. No hug, no 'I love you'. Just a cold exit that was Chase's last memory of her.

_Don't cry, pretty lady. -JM_

Was the text that buzzed on her phone within the next few minutes. As Calvin's eyes swept over it, her body started to tremble again, with the pure fear that she was now feeling rather than the beginnings of a panic attack. Her mind was too tired to even allow her to panic right now, but her body was able enough to launch her out of her flat and upstairs.

John was standing close to the door, as if he were about to leave, and Calvin wiped her face before waving half-heartedly.

"Hey, how are you?" John asked carefully, noting her red eyes and disheveled appearance.

"He won't leave me alone." Calvin told him quietly.

"Who? Chase?" John asked gently, thinking that Calvin was being haunted by her memory of seeing Chase dead the day before. Calvin shook her head.

"Moriarty."

John was immediately alert. "So he contacts you often, then?"

"He made sure I knew that he was the one who had Chase killed." Calvin muttered bitterly, glancing at the phone in her hand. "Yes."

"Yeah, well, you're not staying alone anymore. Move your things up here and tell us whenever he texts you." John said briskly, putting his hands on her shoulders. He noticed that Calvin couldn't look him in the eyes, and her face seemed slightly haunted.

"It won't stop him. He'd just come up a flight of stairs if he wanted to do something. All of Mycroft's men couldn't keep him at bay if he wanted me, or you, or Sherlock."

"But it'll make me feel better. Please." John said, a small smile adorning his lips. She nodded once. "Good. I'm going to see Angeline. Sherlock's in his room if you need him. Be safe." He patted her shoulder as he passed her. Calvin sighed as she watched him go, sitting on the couch and staring at her phone.

OoOoOoOoOo

Calvin had never seen anyone look annoyed at a funeral, but she had learned to expect anything from Sherlock. She glanced up at him and studied his peeved facial expression. She quickly linked it to Annabelle's rather loud sobbing, but did not smile.

Saria, Christofer, and Annabelle were all crying in their own respective ways; Annabelle was loudly sniffing and sobbing, Christofer has streams down his face but managed to look merely like a tragic hero, and Saria had shed only three tears. Calvin had cried herself out over the past week of nightmares and guilt, so her face was merely blank.

She stood between John and Christofer, with the taller man's arm around her shoulders. Calvin supposed that it should be raining, because it always seemed to rain on funerals, but the sun shone bright with the brisk autumn weather. Honestly, it fit. Chase deserved a beautiful day for a funeral.

As the progression of people approached the casket to place a flower on the polished black wood, they each said something quietly before walking away. Calvin took great care to not hear what they were saying, believing it to be private and not for her to know.

When she reached the casket to place her flower there, Calvin said quietly, "Here's looking at you, kid." She walked away without another word, taking her place next to Christofer. What she had said would simply be a quote to anyone who has seen _Casablanca_, but for Chase and Calvin it meant a bit more. The five roommates often had movie nights, and whenever it was Chase's turn to pick a movie he would _always_ pick _Casablanca_. Calvin didn't like the movie much, and Chase often said that she never paid attention. Saying that to him, even when she wasn't sure if he could hear her, meant that she had always paid attention.

As the casket was lowered into the ground, Calvin felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Not being able to stand it, she was one of the first people to leave - while she should have been one of the last. She heard feet rapidly approaching from behind her, and sidestepped just in time top avoid Christofer from grabbing her.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, though his voice was soft and full of tears. Calvin looked away.

"Home."

He grabbed for her hands. "Come _home_." he pleaded, fresh tears falling down his face. "With us. Your _real_ home. We need you."

"I can't replace him, Christofer. I'm still just Calvin."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Christofer argued, tightening his grip on her limp, unresponsive hands. "We need to all be together. Chase would want you to come home."

"Don't speak for him." Calvin snapped, pulling her hands away. "Chase would want this, Chase would want that. We have no idea what he would want me to do because he's _dead_, Christofer."

Christofer looked scandalized, as if she had said something unforgiveable. "Calvin," he said, voice slightly scolding. She gave him a blank look. "Please."

She shook her head. "I won't." she answered, and Christofer noted that she said 'won't' instead of the usual 'can't' that people used. She was telling him straight that she wouldn't come back. He was silent for a moment, before Saria and Annabelle came up behind him.

"Can we go home now?" Annabelle asked tearfully, dabbing - not wiping - at her eyes. She was speaking to all of them, not just Saria and Christofer.

"Yes. Calvin, it's time for you to come home. Enough with the games. You belong with us." Saria said, her voice in it's same demanding tone, but there was underlying sadness that she was very adept at hiding.

"We're worried about you." Annabelle sniffled, glancing over at John and Sherlock, who were approaching the four. "And we need you." Calvin pushed her bangs out of her face with a sigh. She didn't want to go back. She wasn't exactly the same person she'd been those months ago, and she couldn't understand what the change was, but it was there. Her mind was a jumble, unable to make sense of anything she was feeling. Guilt and pain were at the forefront of her mind, while in the back she felt like an eighteen year old who had just moved out of her parents' house. And then somewhere in the middle was that nagging change.

John's hand was on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, and she nodded briefly.

"I'm leaving." Calvin told them, taking a few steps back.

"So that's it, then." Saria said, her voice angry. "You are choosing them over us. You are trading the people you have known since you were sixteen for two men you've known for six months."

Calvin looked overwhelmingly sad. "Don't do this. Not now." she asked, knowing exactly what Saria was going to do. She was going to _make_ Calvin choose in an effort to keep her from leaving.

Saria frowned deeply. "Why not. Pull it like a band-aid, eh? We lost Chase today, we might as well lose you today, too." she answered, though her voice cracked just slightly underneath the steely tone.

"Stop it."

"Calvin. These men are a _danger _to you. I read what you do, prancing around the streets in pursuit of murderers and criminals. He's going to get you killed." Saria said, sticking out her chin at Sherlock. "You think you're some type of hero, don't you? Or do you just want to impress _him_?"

Calvin glanced at Sherlock. "I'm not in love with him, Saria." she said, voice completely monotone. This whole exchange was putting her completely on edge, and anxiety stirred beneath the surface of her cool exterior.

"Then you think you're a hero."

"I don't believe in heroes, and you know that."

Saria snorted, and crossed her arms. She was silent for a few moments, then sighed before saying, "Are you coming home or not."

"Because you've made it _such _a pleasant option?"

"Calvin."

"Don't do this to me, Saria."

"I'm not doing anything to you. You're doing it to _yourself_." Saria snapped, and with that, turned and walked away towards where they parked the car. Christofer gathered Calvin up in his arms and hugged her.

"You know how she is." he whispered. "It's just hard on all of us." He let go and allowed Annabelle to hug the woman next, before he wrapped his arm around the blonde girl's shoulders and they followed Saria to their car. Calvin turned without a word to hail a cab with a sharp whistle.

OoOoOoOo

Not allowed to sleep by herself in her flat, John found Calvin on his couch every morning. He had offered his bed, and Sherlock's as usual, but she insisted that she take the couch. Sherlock often sat and watched her sleep, noting her restlessness and constant awakening. She passed it off as the stress from Chase's untimely death, which was half the truth, at least.

She'd been doing a lot of thinking during the last few days after Chase's funeral, but still could not pinpoint her reasoning to why she wouldn't go back and live with her family again. Besides the hassle of moving, the only thing she could think of was to keep them out of harm of Moriarty, believing that her presence at home would cause him to target them next.

While she would want to protect them at all costs, she doubted that her internal reasons were all that valiant. Perhaps fear of leaving the 'protection' of Sherlock was driving her... more likely, it was selfishness. She liked Sherlock and John and this new chapter in her life. While her family needed her... she didn't feel as if she needed them. A good thing, surely, as one should never depend too heavily on anyone.

But why did it feel as if she were abandoning them?

Shaking her head, she rolled over to find herself alone. No Sherlock, no John, but a laptop sat open at Sherlock's desk. She waited a bit before hearing footsteps coming into the room. A yawning Sherlock appeared, wrapped only in a sheet.

"Morning." she said, sitting up and combing her hair through a bit with her fingers. He glanced at her and nodded in a brief greeting. He sat at his desk, seeming to be waiting for something.

"What are you up to?" she asked, getting up and looking over his shoulder. Sherlock noted her more normal behavior. Previously, she'd been almost silent throughout the day. It seemed that she finally was able to function a bit more normally.

"John is out on a case. I'm waiting for his video call."

Calvin glanced down at him. "John's taking your cases now, then?" she asked, amused. He snorted.

"No. I simply am going to be taking the less important cases by means of video. John takes a laptop out with him, I solve cases from the comfort of my own home."

Calvin chuckled softly. "Sounds lazy to me," she teased, walking to the kitchen to put the kettle on. He shot her an irritated look, but could trust that she'd still share the tea she was brewing.

It was quiet for a while, the only sounds were Calvin in the kitchen. She'd decided to cook breakfast, as well, since John was not home. She glanced at Sherlock and put a few pieces of bread in the toaster for him. Since he'd been sleeping, she guessed that he was having a 'normal person day'... i.e. he was eating and sleeping like a normal human for once. Must be the lack of 'good' cases, like murders. He felt he culd 'disrupt his thinking' for a day.

When she set the plate and the cup of tea in front of him, she could tell he was about to say something to her. She lingered for a second after she turned her back, waiting for what he had to say.

"You do realize that I consider myself married to my work." he said, after which Calvin heard the crunch of toast being eaten. Calvin smiled to herself before turning to look over her shoulder.

"You and Saria are much too alike."

Sherlock turned to look over his shoulder at her, as well. "I explained this t John already, as well, do not misplace your affections in me. I am not the... romantic type." He was trying very hard to put it in terms that a 'normal' person would understand. it also seemed as though he was trying not to hurt her feelings.

"I noticed that, Sherlock." Calvin said, amused. "But you can put your mind at ease. I'm not lovesick nor will I ever be. I'm not dating material, anyway."

"Quite right."

Calvin laughed under her breath. "I don't mean just for _you_, Sherlock. I mean in general. I am not the... romantic type." she explained with a grin, mimicking the way he had uttered the same sentence before her.

"You kissed me."

"Very observant. Purely experimental, I assure you."

"What were you testing."

"My hypothesis was that if I did something unexpected, that you would stop talking. Kissing you seemed to be the best option, although now you are simply convinced that I am somehow in love with you." Calvin explained.

"Want to know my hypothesis?" Sherlock asked, standing up. Calvin remembered that he was in _just_ a sheet as he towered over her.

"You'll tell me no matter my answer."

"I think that you were in an emotionally unstable state, which caused you to act out irrationally... possibly upon a deep-seated desire."

"Yes, because seeing my brother dead really turns me on."

Sherlock studied her face. "Are you saying that if I kissed you, there would be absolutely no effect?" he asked cryptically.

"No, that's not what I was saying. But there wouldn't be."

"No?"

"None."

Sherlock's lips lifted just slightly. "Care to test that?"

Calvin scrutinized him critically, not sure that she had heard right. She must be losing her mind. "For what purpose?"

"Purely experimental, I assure you." Sherlock replied, mimicking her words from earlier. Calvin smirked softly.

"Fine. Lay it on me, handsome." she said flippantly, tilting her head up just a bit. But Sherlock waited a moment. He knew exactly what to do. His eyes met hers, blue on blue, as his hands traveled up her arms to her shoulders - gooseflesh popped up on her bare arms as his fingers brushed over them. Calvin was expecting just a kiss, but he was stimulating her skin beforehand, making it like a real kiss - a lover's kiss. When her eyes focused back on him, he was worlds closer. His lips brushed hers gently as his hands gripped her shoulders. Calvin was startled, fists clenched at her sides in surprise as she stumbled to respond to him.

It was slow and strangely passionate. Sherlock's hands slid further to cup around her neck... or so Clavin thought. Two of his cool, slender fingers suddenly pressed against her pulse point. He pulled away unceremoniously with a triumphant, and mocking, expression.

"Elevated heart rate. A reaction." he informed her cheekily, sitting back down in his chair. Calvin blinked, and then laughed.

"How did you learn to kiss like that, Sherlock? Have plenty of mistresses in your time, did you? Doesn't your work get jealous... since you're married to it and all?" she asked, snickering under her breath.

Sherlock scowled, his victory short-lived with her inane teasing. "I have knowledge on vast amounts of subjects." he muttered, irritated.

"But you don't know anything about the solar system." Calvin reminded him, laughing again. She walked away, heading downstairs to paint a bit for the day. The laptop 'ping'd and John was suddenly on the screen. Sherlock ignored Calvin's laughing as he began focusing on the case.

"_You think snogging is more important than the solar system!_" Calvin called up the stairs, so very amused by the new development. Sherlock turned sharply.

"_Shut up_!"

OoOoOoOo

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AGHHHH.

I've been tirelessly sewing for a cosplay and buying stuff and homework-ing the past week that I just haven't had time to finish this. It's kind of sucky, I apologize, but HEY LOOK A KISS. TWO FOR TWO CHAPTERS, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Meh. I'm still kind of dissatisfied.

But before ya'll are like 'CALVIN GOT OVER CHASE'S DEATH TOO QUICK' lemme remind you that Calvin has spent her whole life hiding her true feelings. Though they were overwhelming the first week, during the investigation and the funeral, she now had returned to her old self, tirelessly hiding her sadness and fear. Whoopie.

ANYWAY

Next chapter is the Irene chapter! Yay! Yes, Calvin will be tagging along to meet Irene. I'm really excited for them to meet. Especially with Irene naked and Calvin being... Calvin.

Okay! So thank you, as always, for all your love and support! I appreciate all of you and I adore all of you! Yaay! So let me know what you thought of this chapter! I'd love to hear from you!

LOVE YOU ALL!

Jess


	21. Chapter 21

Calvin was painting with music playing in her ears, so she didn't hear the men come to get Sherlock, but she did feel the vibration of her phone in her pocket. Tentatively, she pulled it out to see - thankfully - a text from Sherlock. Not Moriarty.

_We'll be needing you. Dominatrix. More details when you arrive. -SH_

Underneath was the street. Calvin wondered why they sought out her help for a 'dominatrix... thing', but was intrigued. She threw off her smock, pulled her hair from it's tie, and headed out the door in her dark jeans and red plaid button-down, snatching ehr peacoat on her way out.

Telling the address to the cabbie, she headed across town. When she arrived to the street, she saw no sign of Sherlock or John. She was also in the middle of nowhere. Glancing around, she wandered to the right to peek down the alley just in time to see John deck Sherlock across the face, turning afterwards to shake his hand in pain. Army man doesn't know how to take a punch.

"Boys, boys." she scolded lightly, approaching the grappling men with a smirk on her face. "We settle our disputes with _words_. Use your _words_."

They both ignored her, John getting his arm around Sherlock's slim neck angrily. Calvin took a few steps back, allowing them to struggle with each other before growing impatient.

"_Boys_." she snapped in a volume much louder than her usual low, musical voice. The outburst startled John into releasing Sherlock and looking up at her. "Case. Dominatrix. Dragging me across town."

"Ah, right. Sorry." John said, helping Sherlock up. He brushed himself off irritably.

"Now, what am I here for? I'm not well-versed in the fine arts of dominatrix-ing, nor do I have any previous experience with them. Not exactly my scene."

"Mm, yes, but could prove to be a nice distraction."

Calvin looked at him skeptically before he continued. "I need you to pose as a prospective customer." he explained, mussing his hair a bit to go with his now-bloodied face. "I will be arriving as a recently-attacked man needing help, John will be the doctor who saw it all happen, and then you will arrive moments later to inquire about the 'Woman's services."

"Pleasant."

"Oh, hush, you want to come on cases and this is what cases entail." Sherlock snapped, heading for the street with John a few steps behind. "Unbutton your coat and top. Look more appealing, will you?"

Calvin did so, opening her peacoat and her button-down to expose the grey camisole underneath the plaid. Mussing her dark hair, and pouting her lips just slightly, she said in a sultry voice, "How about this, Mr. Holmes?"

He glanced at her momentarily before disappearing down the street. John followed a dozen or so steps behind, and Calvin watched them from a distance. She hadn't gotten much instruction, but she was used to that by now from Sherlock. She followed them at a greater distance, and watched from behind shrubbery as Sherlock got himself into the house in question - which had been two streets away from the alley.

John followed in soon after, and the door was closed. Calvin waited three minutes before approaching the house herself, her cool exterior mixed with a bit of sultry to make her act more believeable. She had no idea what she was doing, of course, but that only made it more fun.

A blonde opened the door after a few knocks. "Yes?"

"Hello... I am here to inquire about the servies of the Woman." Calvin said softly, looking up from under her lashes at the assistant. She had realized that she had no idea what the Woman's real name was, but used the name Sherlock had addressed her by.

"Do you have an appointment?"

Calvin looked down at the porch. "Uh, no... I wasn't entirely sure how to go about this, honestly." she gave a little nervous laugh, and the assistant smiled at the woman as she leaned against the door. It was a knowing smile, and her eyes lit up slightly with recognition.

"Ah, yes, come in, then." she said, stepping back. "Miss. Adler. We've got another one. Says she wants to 'inquire' about your 'services'." Calvin followed her into the sitting room, where Sherlock was speaking with a very naked woman. By the smug look on her face, Calvin could tell that whatever Sherlock was planning had not worked here.

"Oh? Well she certainly is pretty. Is she yours, Mr. Holmes?" Miss. Adler stood up, completely exposing herself to Calvin as she sauntered closer. Irene turned her head over her shoulder to look at Sherlock. "A very lucky man you are. A shame, though. I would love to have this one."

Calvin cocked her head and smirked slightly. "Thank you." she said, and Irene's face lit up with a closed-lip smile. She studied Calvin's face with a look in her eyes that put Calvin on edge before turning around.

"As I was saying... disguises are always a self-portrait." she declared, sitting down cross-legged in the armchair while Sherlock stared at her with heated scrutiny.

"Yes, you've already said that." he murmured, gaze not wavering.

"Hm, indeed, but I felt I should pass on that bit of wisdom to Miss. Baker." Irene drawled, eyes flickering up to Calvin's once more. She tensed, not having yet disclosed her name and she strongly doubted that Sherlock had told her his. She had been informed of them previously. The comment also unnerved her, hitting to close to home for her liking. She narrowed her eyes just slightly, taking care to listen more closely and pay more attention to Irene's body language. Sherlock needed material things, little quirks and stains and pieces of evidence to deduce a person. Calvin just needed the mind, the bare body.

"Alright, this should do the trick..." John said, entering from behind Calvin. He glanced around the room at the scene. "Ah... I've missed something, haven't I?" Irene smirked at him.

"Please! Sit down. If you'd like some tea I can call the maid." she welcomed from her chair.

"I had some at the palace." Sherlock replied blandly.

"I know." Irene said, as if she was reminding him.

"Clearly."

The room was silent for a moment. Sherlock was staring at Irene with vigor and a furrowed brow. He glanced back at John, scrutinizing him as well, then at Calvin, then back at Irene. Calvin took the moment to move to the couch next to Sherlock.

"Somebody loves you," Irene commented and though her eyes flickered to Calvin, that was not what she meant... probably. John and Sherlock followed her gaze to the clothed woman, and Calvin's eyes met Sherlock's for a brief moment.

"That's not what I meant." Irene clarified, very amused by their reaction. "Though your reaction suggests otherwise. No, what I was commenting on was your face. If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid the nose and teeth too." She turned her eyes on John, who chuckled without humor.

"Could you put something on, please? Anything at all. A napkin." he suggested, and Calvin closed her eyes and smiled secretly at his request.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" Irene asked with a quiet note of intimidation and smugness that Calvin noted.

"John knows where to look." Sherlock said, taking off his coat and standing. Calvin stared up at him.

"Oh, I think he knows exactly where." Irene said happily, standing and walking closer to the trio. She stood directly in front of John, who took great care to keep his eyes on her face. Calvin had the urge to snicker at him, but held back.

"Not sure about you." she continued, holding out a hand for Sherlock's coat. She looked down at Calvin. "Or _you_. Do you mind my apparel?" She smirked.

Calvin shrugged. "It's your home, you can dress however you like." she answered. "I don't mind it." Adler's smile widened as she took the coat from Sherlock.

"Oh? Is it just my gender that doesn't appeal to you, or are you simply unfazed by such," she glanced at John with a smirk, "_Exposure_."

"Both, I suppose." Calvin answered with another shrug. "Indifferent would be the word I would use." Irene 'hmm'd in response before losing interest.

"So, tell me." she continued, sitting on the armrest next to wear Sherlock had sat on the couch, removing her heels deftly. "How was it done?"

"What."

"The hiker with the bashed in head. How was he killed?" she continued with interest. John looked slightly alarmed while Sherlock blinked at her with curiosity. Calvin had no idea what she was talking about, but took an educated guess that it was some case that Sherlock was working on or had worked on.

"That's not why I'm here."

"No, no, no. You're here for the photographs." Irene answered knowingly. "But that's never going to happen. Since we're here just chatting anyway." Her vice was conversational now, and Calvin turned slightly to keep studying her movements and facial expressions, as well as her words. So far, she could only tell the obvious: self-assured, exceedingly comfortable in her own skin, intelligent, sensual.

"But that story's not been on the news yet... how do you know about it?" John asked, walking further into the room, and Calvin realized that it was probably the case that they were working on earlier that morning without Calvin.

"I know one of the policemen." Irene explained. "Well... I know what he likes."

"Oh. And you like policemen?" John asked, sitting down between Calvin and Irene.

"I like detective stories. And detectives." she replied with a small smile. "Brainy is the new sexy, don't you agree, Diana?"

Calvin looked up sharply at her name, her heartbeat racing at the mere mention. Irene noticed the reaction and smirked a bit.

Sherlock moved to answer her question. "Business.. uh, business with the car relative at the time of the backfire. The fact that the deathblow was to the back of the head, that's all you need to know."

Irene's brow furrowed. "Okay, tell me, how was he murdered?"

"He wasn't."

_'How boring for you then, Sherlock._' Calvin thought with a small smirk that brought the man in question's eyes to her face. He gave her a slightly irritated look.

"You don't think it was murder?" Irene asked.

"I know it wasn't."

"How?"

"The same way I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel, and the photographs I'm looking for are in this room." Sherlock said quickly.

"Okay... but how?" Irene asked quietly, brow still furrowed.

Sherlock smirked with triumph. "So they are. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no one in." he commanded. "Calvin, watch the hallway. John's had quite a fright seeing a naked woman, I imagine he'll be a bit dazed for a few moments." John shot him an angry look.

Calvin chuckled, standing and leaning against the wall next to the hallway, He left the dor open just a crack for Calvin to see through. Irene stared after them.

"Two men alone in the countryside several yards apart and one car." Sherlock continued to drawl after John left.

"Oh... I-I thought you were looking for the photos now." Irene said, feeling a bit whiplashed with the change in mood and purpose that Sherlock often put people through.

Calvin stared up at Sherlock. "He is." she assured Adler without looking at her, a smile formed on her lips.

"No, no." Sherlock contradicted, pacing a bit. "Looking takes ages, I'm just going to find them. I think you're moderately clever, and we've got a moment so let's pass the time. Two men, a car, nobody else," Sherlock was painting a picture for them now. "Driver's trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere. And the hiker's taking a moment, looking at the sky, watching the birds. Any moment now, something's going to happen. What."

"The hiker's going to die." Irene answered with curiosity, studying Sherlock from across the room.

"No. That's the result." Sherlock corrected. "What's going to _happen_?"

"I don't understand."

"Oh, well, try to." Sherlock prompted. "Calvin already does, and she's only half-listening." He noted this coupled with a nod in her direction, seeing Calvin looking a bit detached as she stared out of the crack between the door.

Irene scowled a bit. "Why?"

"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think. What's the use, let's see."

"The car is going to backfire."

"There's going to be a loud noise."

"So what?"

Calvin started to answer quietly from her post at the door. "The car is-" she began before Sherlock interrupted her.

"No, no, I know that _you_ know. Let her do it on her own." he scolded slightly. "Noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance..." And the smoke detector went off. Calvin's head snapped to Sherlock in alarm. Irene's eyes looked towards the hallway, and then towards the mirror on the wall.

"Thank you." Sherlock said, stepping towards the mirror with interest. "When hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." Calvin blinked, frowning a bit. She had looked directly at Sherlock when the smoke alarm went off, fearing for his safety immediately. He must have noticed this. She shook her head slightly to herself.

Sherlock had his back to her now, and easily found the switch to raise the mirror and expose the safe hidden behind. He turned towards Irene. "Really hope you don't have a baby in here."

"Alright, John, you can turn it off now." Sherlock called, and after no response he called again, "I said you can turn it off now!"

"Give me a minute!" John called back. Seconds later, there was a gunshot that silenced the ringing. Calvin frowned and looked out the crack of the door, why would John use a bloody gun to turn off the alarm? Had he brought his pistol with him? A man with a gun suddenly appeared, and John backed up with his hands in the air.

"Thank you," he said without humor.

"Sherlock," Calvin said quietly, trying not to alert the men of her presence.

"You should always use gloves with these things, you know..." Sherlock was saying, not paying any attention to Calvin. The men headed for the door and Calvin lost track of the rest of the conversation as the door she was peeking through hit her in the cheek and she was grabbed by the arm by an armed man.

"Hands behind your head, on the floor. Keep it still." an obviously American man commanded, throwing Calvin to the ground and having another man hold a gun to the back of her head. Ah, wasn't this familiar. Guns, men, life being threatened.

"Sorry, Sherlock." John grunted, kneeling beside Calvin on the carpet.

"Miss. Adler, on the floor." the American demanded, and she joined them.

"Don't you want me on the floor, too?" Sherlock asked, hands also raised over his head.

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe."

"American." Sherlock commented with just a hint of disgust in his voice. Calvin couldn't help but smirk in spite of her current situation. "Interesting. Why would you care?"

"Sir. The safe. Now, please." the man demanded.

"I don't know the code."

"You've been listening. She said she told you."

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'll know she didn't."

The man sighed, irritated. "I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr. Holmes."

"For god's sake, she's the one that knows the code! Ask her." John spat angrily from his kneeled position on the floor. Calvin turned her head slightly to look at him, and then Irene.

"Yes, sir, she also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burgular alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman." he answered, his gun still trained on Sherlock.

"Mr. Holmes doesn't..." Irene began before the American man interrupted her with a 'shut up'.

"One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the inside of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship." he explained with a sick smile. "Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Dr. Watson."

"What." Sherlock snapped. "I don't know the code."

"And, what the hell, at the count of _four_, Mr. Kelley, shoot Miss. Baker." he continued, giving a challenging look to Sherlock. "One," Calvin felt panic bubbling below the surface.

"I _don't know the code._" Sherlock said, words clipped with anger and desperation as the man moved on to _two_. "She didn't tell me, I don't know it."

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now, Mr. Holmes. But that second will probably be _after_ I have both your partner and your girlfriend shot."

"Why does everyone assume I'm his girlfriend." Calvin mumbled to herself, voice quavering just a bit, and Mr. Kelley pushed the gun harshly into the back of her head as a warning to keep quiet. "It's just so ordinary." The words were mostly an attempt to calm herself down.

"Three." the man snapped, and Calvin could hear the tightening of Mr. Archer's finger on the trigger as John tensed for the impact of the bullet in his head. Calvin felt a scream try and force it's way up her throat, but Sherlock beat her to it.

"No, stop!" Sherlock shouted suddenly, and the man signalled for Mr. Archer to wait a moment. Sherlock turned to the safe slowly, staring at the buttons as if they would tell him the combination. He pressed the numbers slowly, and the safe gave a satisfactory _click_ as it opened.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Now open it." the American demanded. Sherlock glanced back at Irene before saying something that Calvin found very strange, '_Vatican cameos_.'

John immediately ducked, tugging Calvin to the floor with him as a bullet was fired over their heads, hitting Mr. Archer square in the chest. Mr. Kelly bent down to aim the gun between Calvin's eyes. She kicked sharply, hitting the man's wrist and causing him to drop the weapon with a shout of pain. John took care of the rest, grabbing the gun and hitting the bastard in the kneecaps, one bullet each. Calvin delivered another swift kick to his head, knocking him out cold. She looked up to see Irene training a gun on her once-captor after Sherlock hit the American man across the face with his own gun. Calvin took the initiative to grab Mr. Archer's gun, as he wouldn't be needing it.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock asked Irene as Calvin stood up.

"Not at all." she responded, hitting her own prisoner across the face with the gun she'd received. John checked Mr. Archer and Mr. Kelley for signs of life.

"Archer's dead. Kelley probably has a nasty concussion from that kick." John reported, smiling a tbit at Calvin. "Nice, that. Aiming for the temple and all."

Calvin shrugged, glancing at the gun in her hand with disinterest. "I don't like guns." she suddenly commented, handing it to John.

"Thank you," Irene was saying. "You were very observant."

"Observant?" John asked, turning around with confusion.

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be." Sherlock answered in his usual low tone, much different than the desperate one he'd used moments before.

"Flattered?" John asked, looking to Calvin, who didn't know either.

"There will be more of them." Sherlock continued, rushing to the door. "They'll be keeping an eye on the building." John followed Sherlock to the hallway, and Calvin watched after them, needing to wait a moment to calm her body down.

She turned and noticed that Irene was staring at her. Calvin cocked her head in the form of a silent question.

Irene smiled. "You're different," she observed, sizing up Calvin a bit. "Diana."

Calvin flinched noticeably. "You are, too." she responded a-matter-of-factly. Irene laughed softly at that, nodding in agreement. "But strangely enough, you're just like everybody else."

It was Irene's turn to cock her head in question. Calvin pushed her bangs of her eyes before speaking again, "Everyone is different. Variation is what makes us human. The things that make us unique also make us so similar, I suppose."

Irene looked at her with curiosity before striding to the safe to check for whatever had been kept there. Sherlock returned just as she had, following gunshots from outside.

"Check the rest of the house, see how they got in." Sherlock told John, coming to stand next to Calvin.

"You're okay?" he asked very quietly, and Calvin blinked before nodding once. "Well, that's money to put in the bank." He said louder, flipping the phone in his hand. Calvin glanced from him to Irene.

"Oh, and that's mine." Irene said, holding out her hand for the phone. Sherlock obviously had no intention of giving it back, and pressed a button to reveal the lock screen. He ignored her hand.

"All the photographs are on here, I presume?"

"I have copies, of course." Adler insisted.

Sherlock glanced up. "No, you don't." he said decidedly. "Your account has disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone prove to be unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them."

"Who said I'm selling?" Irene challenged.

"Well, why would they be interested? Whatever's on the phone is clearly not just photographs."

"That camera phone is my life, Mr. Holmes." Adler insisted forcefully, and Calvin glanced up to study her face. Just a flicker of desperation showed in her features. But why? What was so important?

"I'd die before I'd let you take it. It's my protection." she stepped closer, holding out her hand once more for the phone, when John called from the other room.

"It was." Sherlock corrected, shoving it in his pocket and whisking out of the room towards John's voice. Calvin glanced at Irene before following him. The woman followed right after her, however, up the stairs to a bedroom where the blonde from earlier was on the floor. John was sent to check the back door, and Calvin leaned against the wall as Sherlock skitted about the room.

"You're very calm." he said suddenly, and Calvin wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or to Irene. She glanced up.

"Your booby trap did just kill a man." Sherlock clarified, looking to Irene. She looked unconcerned.

"He would have killed me." Irene answered, taking a few steps towards Sherlock. "It was self-defense in advance." Suddenly, her hand shot out and plunged something into Sherlock's upper arm. Calvin stumbled forward a few steps in shock, seeing Sherlock's eyes swim in and out of focus as he felt the effects of whatever she had done to him. Irene slapped him across the face, sending him to the floor.

Calvin's eyes heated up a bit, taking a few steps towards Irene. She spotted the instrument still in her hand and noted that it could still be used to drug her.

"Give it to me." Irene demanded, holding her hand out to Sherlock. When he refused several times, a riding crop was brought into the picture. Calvin wasn't sure what she could do, as Irene was armed and readily able to utilize the crop. The phone was dropped in the exchange, and Irene swiped it happily.

"This is how I want you to remember me..." Irene said quietly. stroking Sherlock's face with the end of the crop. "The woman who beat you." Calvin's brows furrowed at the sudden change, and as Irene turned to leave, Calvin moved quickly to block her escape.

"Oh, you. I had forgotten about you." Irene said, unconcerned.

"Give it to me."

When the crop hit the side of her face, Calvin knew that she should have phrased her request a bit better. "Gladly, dear." Irene said as Calvin's head snapped to the side with the force of the hit.

Calvin still didn't move from her blocking position and Irene clicked her tongue inpatiently. "Dearest, I don't have time for this. If you don't want to end up like your lover there, then please move aside. I wouldn't want to ruin your pretty little face any more... in these circumstances." she smiled suggestively and Calvin cocked her head a bit.

"Physical pain doesn't intimidate me." Calvin answered, blinking slowly. The two women sized each other up, both of them obviously having no intention of backing down. Irene sighed, eyes still studying Calvin's face.

"Very well, I'm sure that your anxiety is something I can utilize against you." Irene said casually, smiling secretively.

"You put on quite a show for your lover, there. He doesn't know, does he? I suspect he hasn't had you yet. He'd surely have figured it out, then. Pleasure always brings out the little imperfections within all of us." Irene smirked, opposing the frown forming on Calvin's face.

"He's not my lover."

Irene only 'hmm'd in response. "Now, dear, I really must be off. You're a nice girl, a pretty little thing, and I honestly don't want to drug you. But if I must..." she brandished the stick daintily, and Calvin didn't even glance at it... but she stepped aside.

"What... what have you done to him?" John shouted, finally re-entering the room and finding Sherlock floundering on the floor, still trying to fight the drugs in his system.

"He'll sleep for a few hours, nothing too serious. Just make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit, makes for a very unattractive corpse."

"What have you given him? Sherlock!" John called, bending down as Sherlock desperately tried to fight the oncoming tide of sleep that was washing over him. Irene chuckled, unconcerned.

"He'll be fine." she assured him. "You know, I was wrong about him. He did know where to look."

"Look? What are you talking about?"

"The combination."

"What... what was it?" John asked as Irene leaned against the open window, a smirk adorning her face. She grinned at Calvin, and then John.

"My measurements." she said, before falling backwards out the window. John rushed to watch her disappeared, then turned to Calvin with a bewildered expression.

"Why didn't you stop her?" he demanded, returning to Sherlock. Calvin bit her lip before answering.

"I couldn't."

OoOoOoOo

YAY IRENE YAY I LOVE HER YAY.

I'm VERY TIRED NOW so I will make this A/N unusually short so I can go to bed.

I hope the Irene chapter was all you'd hoped it would be. There will be more Irene and Calvin interaction in the future, because it was very fun to write.

By the way, tidbit. Since Irene was informed by Moriarty's men about Sherlock and his little gang before they arrived, and Irene knew that Calvin had anxiety and that she keeps it a secret... guess who must have told her that. LOVELY. MORIARTY KNOWS. FANTASTIC.

ANYWAY. I know, no Sherlock/Calvin this chapter, but it IS coming. I know it's slow-going, and I'm sorry, but I honestly can't do it to myself or to these fabulous characters to rush anything. I wa to make it as authentic and complex as it should be. I don't think Sherlock and Calvin will ever be officially 'dating' or 'boyfriend/girlfriend', because they're not really... the people for labels, I guess? I just don't see either of them being like "This is my boyfriend/girlfriend." I think that when it happens, it will be for each other and they won't need to label it. But it WILL HAPPEN. Sooner than you think, too! I promise. And there will be more little moments thrown in in most chapters. The Christmas chapter will make you very happy. And Calvin's confession is also in the works for a SOON chapter.

So stay tuned!

As always, thanks so much for reviewing and supporting me! 150 reviews, wow! Yay! Thanks you all!

So, let me know what you thought of this chapter, and I need to sleep now!

Love you all!

Jess


	22. Chapter 22

John and Calvin were having some ice cream in the kitchen when they heard a 'thump' from Sherlock's room. They glanced at each other, finishing their latest spoonfuls of chocolate quickly before heading in.

Sherlock was sprawled on the ground, still drugged out of his mind as he failed at pulling himself to his feet.

"You okay?" John asked, wiping his mouth of chocolate.

"How did I get here?" the detective demanded, dazed, from the floor.

"Well, I don't suppose you remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense." John told him. Calvin stood behind him, peering over his shoulder. "Oh, I should warn you, I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone." Calvin smirked, Lestrade had _indeed_ filmed some of Sherlock's strange drug-induced rants. It was funnier than those on meds after having their wisdom teeth pulled. John took a few steps into the room.

"Where is she?" Sherlock demanded, struggling to his feet.

"Where is who? Calvin? She's right here." John gestured backwards with his head and Calvin gave a little wave.

"No, no, not _her_. The woman. That woman." Sherlock tried to clarify, stumbling about the room in a daze.

"What woman?"

"The evil woman!"

"Oh, come now, Sherlock. She's not _evil_." Calvin said, taking a few quick steps forward to duck under Sherlock's arm to support him. He was having a tough time keeping on his feet. He tried to push her away, but realized that he needed her to stand.

"The woman woman!" Sherlock said, raising his voice.

"Oh, Irene Adler." John said, finally understanding. "She got away. Nobody saw her." He glanced at Calvin, just a hint of an accusing glint in his eye. She pursed her lips but didn't defend herself. Sherlock detached himself from Calvin and stumbled to the window.

"She wasn't here, Sherlock." John assured him, frowning. Sherlock tripped over his own feet and went crashing to the ground before Calvin could catch him. She had to stifle her laughter as she and John pulled him to his feet once more.

"No, no, no, no." John scolded, tossing him back onto the bed diagonally. "Back to bed. You'll be fine in the morning, just sleep." Calvin pulled up the sheet to cover Sherlock.

"Of course I'll be fine, I am fine." Sherlock insisted, voice dazed. "I'm absolutely fine."

John snickered. "Yes. You're great. We'll be here if you need us."

"Why would I need you two."

Calvin smiled. "No reason at all." John said, closing the door and allowing his flatmate to sleep once more.

OoOoOoOo

The next morning, they were visited by Mycroft during breakfast time. Mrs. Hudson was puttering around the kitchen, simply insisting that she cook them breakfast and that Calvin should relax.

And relax she did. She was having a grand old time watching the two brothers argue in that strange little way. That, coupled with a delicious cup of tea and honey pecan pancakes, made this a very good morning for Calvin.

"A disgrace, you sending your little brother into danger like that." Mrs. Hudson was saying, setting down another plate of bacon for Calvin. She immediately began nibbling on the end of one, pondering the thought of Sherlock ever being 'little'. "Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

"Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson." Mycroft said with a mocking smile. All three of the adults at the table looked up sharply at his words.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock and John exclaimed together. The older Holmes glanced around at all the faces turned at him, ending with Calvin's stone-cold eyes as she stared up at him icily with a piece of bacon stopping just short of her mouth.

"Apologies."

The world seemed to thrust back into motion, with Mrs. Hudson bustling around again and Calvin continuing to chew. "Thank you." Mrs. Hudson sighed, heading to the kitchen for the kettle.

"Though do, in fact, shut up." Sherlock called after her, turning the page in his newspaper. Calvin glanced up at him with amusement. His phone went off once more, the erotic sigh of a woman entering their ears again. Calvin leaned her cheek on her hand, looking at Sherlock. She'd already guessed the owner of the voice, but couldn't figure out how she'd changed her text tone. She noted the coat Sherlock had given Irene the day before that was hanging over the side of the couch haphazardly.

"Oh, it's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson sighed from the kitchen. Calvin ignored some of the conversation until Mycroft walked out of the room, phone to his ear. Her eyes followed him before snapping back to John when he addressed the elephant in the room.

"Why's your phone make that noise?"

Sherlock looked at him, feigning ignorance. "What noise?"

"_That_ noise, the noise it just made."

"That's... It means I've got a text." he said, turning back to his paper.

"Your texts don't usually make that noise." John pointed out.

"Well, somebody got ahold of the phone and apparently as a _joke_, personalized their text alert noise." Sherlock explained with a sigh, still not looking up from his paper. John noted the female-sounding tone and turned his eyes to Calvin.

Before he could even ask the question, Calvin glanced up and murmured, "No, John." She was paying more attention to dipping the edge of her wheat toast into the yolk of her eggs. The phone went off again, only for Sherlock to check the text and set the phone back down without a reply.

"Would you turn that phone down a bit?" Mrs. Hudson asked, coming back into the room. "At my time of life, it's..." she trailed off, pursing her lips at Sherlock. The table was silent for a moment, except for Calvin's chewing and Sherlock's flipping of his newspaper.

"I'm wondering who - besides Calvin - could have got hold of your phone because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" John stated, with a bit of an accusatory tone. Sherlock lifted his paper higher to block John's view of his face. Calvin chuckled under her breath, finishing her tea.

"I'll leave you to your deductions." Sherlock sighed.

John smiled, leaning over the table to read over his own paper. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Where do you get that idea?"

Mycroft came back in, ending his phone call, and proceeded to tell Sherlock that he would have nothing more to do with Irene Adler. Sherlock ended the conversation by picking up his violin and playing a tune.

"Good morning, Miss. Baker." Mycroft said, nodding his head in 'good-bye'. Calvin waved at him with the hand that wasn't supporting her cheek and he made his leave without saying good-bye to anyone else in the room.

"Mycroft's taken a liking to you." Sherlock noted accusingly over the sound of the violin in his hands. Calvin looked up with curiosity.

"Oh?"

"Hm, yes. Possibly because you don't sass him."

Calvin thought back to her first encounter with Mycroft Holmes, in which she thoroughly sassed him. "Hmm... no. Maybe because I keep you in line?" she teased.

Sherlock scoffed at that, his tune becoming a bit faster. "No." he snapped, turning his back to the table and changing tunes dramatically. John smiled across the table at Calvin.

"Well, I'm taking Jeannette Christmas shopping today, so I'd better be off." John told them, standing from his chair. "Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Hudson. I'll see you all tonight, then?"

Calvin nodded and waved to him as he grabbed his coat and headed down the stairs. The cold chill crept up the stairs after John opened the door to leave, reminding Calvin how fast December was going. No snow, yet, but there were only ten days until Christmas. She had to start thinking about presents.

She vaguely heard Mrs. Hudson tell Sherlock that she was going to the market, but was too lost in her Christmas thoughts to answer. She'd always liked to give presents. Give, not receive. She liked to pick a perfect gift and see the look on the receiver's face a whole lot more than she liked opening her own presents. Since money was not an issue for her, she decided a new laptop for John with a fingerprint lock on it to keep Sherlock out. The detective would find a way to unlock it, of course, but he needed a new laptop, anyway.

Mrs. Hudson would receive a new oven. She'd been complaining for a while about the condition of the one she had now. Two down. Mrs. Hudson had mentioned that Molly would be coming over Christmas Eve, so Molly would need something as well. Not knowing her very well, Calvin decided that she'd ask what she would like. She opened her mouth to ask, but when she focused her eyes she noticed that Sherlock was sitting very close to her.

Startled, Calvin flinched. "What?" she demanded, staring back at him.

"What are you thinking about?"

She gave him a bemused look. "You know, I just can't get my mind off that kiss. It's like I'm a lovesick teenager." she teased, and Sherlock gave her an irritated look. "I'm thinking about Christmas presents. What would Molly like?"

"What... why? Molly doesn't need anything." he dismissed.

Calvin cocked her head. "I plan on getting all of you presents." she informed him. "I suppose I'll ask John. He'll know." She stood up, heading for the staircase to go down to her flat. She felt like painting some more today. Sherlock stood up and followed her.

"You plan on buying _me_ a present?" he asked. Calvin stopped by the doorway and looked back at him with a smile.

"Of course I'm going to get you a present, Sherlock." she answered earnestly.

"I'm not going to get you anything." he told her bluntly. She laughed and shook her head.

"That's not the point, idiot." She descended the stairs and stopped at the foot of them when she heard Sherlock's footsteps following her again.

"Were you really thinking about me kissing you?" he asked her now, and she cocked her head in amusement.

"No, Sherlock, it's not exactly a priority." Calvin explained, grinning up at him. "You are quite talented, I give you that. I wouldn't be adverse to another... purely for experimental reasons, of course." She winked teasingly and turned to head towards her flat.

To her surprise, Sherlock grabbed her shoulders and pressed his lips against hers. She stumbled back with the force and found herself caught between the wall next to the door and Sherlock's body. His hands slid down to hold her waist and hers slid up into his hair. It felt exactly as it looked, soft and bouncy and _perfect_. Once again, it ended abruptly with Sherlock pressing two fingers into her pulse point, but this time he checked his pulse as well.

"What was that?"

Seeming dissatisfied by something, Sherlock frowned and headed back up the stairs. "Collecting data." he offered as some sort of explanation. As soon as Calvin lost sight of him, violin music drifted down the staircase.

Calvin rolled her eyes, and pushed off the wall to saunter into her flat, the latest of her paintings still resting in it's easel. It was strange; her own flat felt so foreign to her since John insisted that she spend most of her time with them. It was like all of her fear of Moriarty was summed up into the space that was her flat. It felt violated and it just didn't feel like home anymore. The flat above hers did, however.

_You should probably wash out your mouth_. _-JM_

The text came up on her phone as soon as her brush hit the canvas. Calvin narrowed her eyes and glanced around the flat. It was quiet, everything exactly how it had been yesterday when she was down here painting. She replaced her phone in her pocket and turned on the television for background noise.

OoOoOoOo

Lalalalalala

Not a very exciting chapter, but a cute one, at least. There will be maybe two more chapters before the Christmas part, and I am excited as hell for the Christmas part because... well I'm going to blow your mind. BLOW YOUR MIND. So much shit is going to go down.

Oh, by the way, this fanfic may change to the M Rating eventually soooooo yeah. I'll put warnings up for ya'll who aren't comfortable with the sexy times. I should say 'people under thirteen shouldn't read it' but I was like 11 when I started reading smutty fanfiction so who am I kidding

Anyway, not much to talk about this week. Nine days until my next Con and I'm so excited. I also have a shitton of AP homework to get done but instead sit here writing fanfiction. Damn the man!

Okay so thanks ya'll for your continued support and kind words. I adore you all! Lemme know what you thought of this chapter, and I'll see you again soon!

Jess


	23. Chapter 23

Calvin watched the snow fall outside her bedroom window as she got dressed to finish her Christmas shopping. A black turtleneck with stonewashed jeans and a pair of comfy brown boots were thrown on as she went through her list once more.

She'd already called and made arrangements for Mrs. Hudson's stove to be brought in a few days after Christmas, but she had the receipt (with the price marked off with a black marker, of course) to put into the card. Calvin already picked out John's laptop online, but would be picking it up today. She decided to buy Molly two tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera at a nearby prestigious theater company. John remembered her mentioning that it was one of her favorite movies.

Putting on a scarf and a thick winter coat, her mind was still thinking of presents. Lestrade would be having his car disappear two days after Christmas, to be brought back will all the necessary work done on it - new tires, fixed transmission, oil change, full tank of gas - the works. He would also be receiving a card notifying him of his 'late' present.

Sherlock was still the only one that Calvin could not find a suitable gift for. She thought of a new set of vials, beakers, and chemicals for his experiments, but feared that she wouldn't get the correct kind that he wanted or needed.

She also thought of a new violin, but decided that Sherlock deserved nothing less than a stradivarius... and she wasn't _that_ wealthy. Scrapping that idea, she locked her door behind her and headed for the door. Shopping for Christofer, Annabelle, and Saria would bring her ideas... hopefully. As she passed the stairs leading up to 221B, she called, "Sherlock, I'm going shopping. Care to come?" She knew that he wouldn't, but extended the offer in a sort of joking manner.

It was silent for a minute before, "No. Isn't that a sort of thing a boyfriend does, then."

Calvin laughed. "Perceptive. But, as it seems, I lack one and the closest alternative isn't home, therefore I thought to extend the invitation to you."

"I have more important things to get done, thank you."

"Like brood over Irene?" she teased, and was not satisfied with any further answer from the man upstairs. She chuckled quietly as she headed for the street, taking a cab to her first destination; to pick up John's laptop.

After she had her first heavy bag to tote around, Calvin headed from store to store, picking up things for her family along the way. She meandered around the latest store, upset that she still hadn't found anything suitable for Sherlock. She set her bags down, tired, as she paced up and down a single isle filled with books. She brushed her fingertips over the shiny covers and spines on display, longing more for the scruffed edges of her books or the musty smell of a bookstore rather than the generic smell of the outlet.

She froze as a hand came to pull a book out of the neatly lined row, setting all the books in the shelf to lean one way, missing their piece that had been extracted. The hand was too familiar, and Calvin could all-too well imagine it stroking her cheek as a bomb was strapped to her chest.

Slowly, she turned and saw exactly what her mind's eye had painted. Jim Moriarty, in the flesh.

"I thought you allowed other people to hold the rifles." Calvin commented, face masterfully blank as he cocked his head and smiled at her, book in hand. She was commenting on the fact that he was confronting her in person, as he never had for anybody else. She used his words from the night at the pool.

"Nobody is being shot." he reminded her playfully, words with a loaded meaning. He glanced down at the book in his hand. "_Romeo and Juliet_, unlikely love in which both participants _die_ at the end. Tragic." He was obviously referring to the few kisses that Sherlock and herself had shared. Unlikely romance, indeed. _Nonexistent_ romance, actually.

Calvin blinked. "The only difference is that neither Sherlock nor I are stupid teenagers with warring families." she said, her voice a bit harsher than she intended as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Hm, no, but Romeo does moon over Rosaline before he realizes his love for Juliet." Jim reminded her, smiling mockingly. "And I hear he's quite absorbed in another Miss. at the moment."

"You're finding parallels with no literary support." Calvin argued, feeling semi-secure being in public with Moriarty... although there was no good reason for that. He would do as he liked, public or no. She glanced at the open isle only a dozen steps away from her position. Jim followed her gaze and sighed.

"Oh, please, if you were so terrified of me you'd have had the police sweep your flat by now." he said, setting the book back on the shelf. "I think you _like_ my attention. Care for me to be your Paris, Juliet?"

Calvin grimaced at his words. "I simply realize that you will do as you please." she said, answering his observation with a contradiction.

"Smart girl." Jim praised, leaning a bit closer and causing Calvin to take a step back from him. "Everyone thinks that 'calling the police' will stop bad things from happening. I think you'd be the girl to survive the horror movie, Miss. Diana."

She flinched at the name, and Moriarty drank in the sight of her vulnerability. "The police are only minutes away when seconds count." she murmured, glancing up at him. "Why are you here?"

Jim shrugged. "Felt like coming to say 'hi', shoot the breeze, maybe grab some dinner at Annabelle's restaurant." he smiled at her, a silent threat behind his eyes. Calvin's repressed memory of Chase's passing suddenly flashed in front of hers.

"Why did you kill Chase."

"_I_ didn't kill Chase." Jim assured her with a frown, then looked thoughtful as Calvin's eyebrows knitted together. "I think the guy's name was Harold... I dunno. But _I_ didn't do it." He took a seemingly harmless step towards her, causing her to automatically step back again.

"Allow me to rephrase it," Calvin said through gritted teeth. "Why did you have Chase killed."

He shrugged. "I felt his performance was something to be desired. Confidence was not a good look on that fellow." he mused, eyes zeroing in on the nervous tics that Calvin was beginning to display as her anxiety set in. "And to get your attention."

"Why? I'm not Sherlock." Calvin reminded him bitterly.

He looked thoughtful. "No, decidedly not since you are much prettier than he is, but I find you overwhelmingly interesting. And, as you can imagine, I do not have an overwhelming threshold of interest, so consider yourself special." He took one more step towards her, causing her to step back yet again, but this time her back hit the bookcase behind her and her foot hit the metal case with an audible metallic sound. He grinned at her, leaning closer.

"And here you are, with your back against the wall... figuratively and physically, of course." he taunted, smiling dangerously. "Just like when you lived with all your little friends and they started asking questions. _'Why don't you like scary movies, Calvin? Why are you up all night, Calvin?' _And then the drunken _'Why don't you use your real name, Calvin?_'. Oh, yes, they were oh-so understanding to your face, but they whispered about their strange little roommate when you weren't around or had locked yourself in your room, yet again, with a 'headache'."

Calvin was paralyzed. He knew so much about her life that it scared her so thoroughly that it physically hurt her. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know _everything_ about you." Moriarty growled, his playful tone missing for one sentence and replaced with the menacing one that hid away until precise moments. Calvin shrunk back just slightly, fear flashing through her eyes. His playful exterior returned, and he tsked at her reaction as he cupped her chin in his hand.

"You don't have to hide from _me_, Diana." he said quietly, as if he were saying it to a lover, but with a mocking undertone. He was almost mirroring the position Calvin had been in with Sherlock two days before. Purposely. Disgusted, Calvin ripped her chin out of his grasp and pushed his away with the weight of her body, no longer frozen. He chuckled low in his throat as he watched her snatch up her bags and walk away.

"Hmm... Correction, you _can't_ hide from me." he drawled after her, taking a few steps backwards until he started to whistle. Calvin looked back over her shoulder and watched him saunter away.

OoOoOoOo

When she arrived home that evening, Calvin told John of her encounter with Moriarty, leaving out the part about the 'romance' with her and Sherlock. There wasn't much that they could do, but John made her promise to be careful... as if that would safeguard her against Moriarty's threat.

Despite him asking her to stay close to them, Calvin insisted that she wrap the presents in her own flat, not wanting John to figure out his present nor see anyone else's. It only took about an hour to wrap John's laptop and put receipts or tickets in the others' cards, along with a heartfelt Christmas message signed by her. Presents would be dropped off at her old apartment tomorrow, since she would not be spending Christmas with her family. She piled the cards and the gift in her closet, just in case, and glanced out the window. Large, fluffy flakes of snow were falling in the darkness.

She threw on a coat over her t-shirt and headed outside to sit on the steps in just her pajama pants and slippers. She liked the feeling of the snow brushing against her face and melting slightly as it came in contact with her skin, and smiled at the white dotting her long brown hair.

"Didn't John warn you to be careful." Sherlock's voice told her from the door. Calvin smiled, turning to face him.

"If Moriarty wanted to kill me, he would have done it in the store or he would just come up the stairs." she reminded him, blinking away the snow falling on her lashes. Sherlock didn't answer.

"Did you get all of your shopping done?" he asked, changing the subject.

Calvin grinned. "You mean to ask, did I get my shopping for _you_ done?" she responded, amused.

"Yes."

"No. I still haven't found anything suitable for you, Sherlock. Any idea what you'd like?"

He hesitated. "I'm sure whatever you decided upon will be satisfactory." he answered cryptically, and Calvin rolled her eyes.

"Well when you put it like _that_..." she mumbled sarcastically, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. She sighed just slightly, enough that he heard and noted it. He cleared his throat.

"I will be quite happy with whatever you get me, Calvin." he assured her, addressing her with her name as he did not usually do. "You don't have to get me _anything_, however."

"Christmas is kind of my thing." Calvin told him with a new smile. "Not for the novelty or the alcohol or anything... but I like the _giving_. I always have. Even when I was little I would make cards or crafts for every member of my family, even though they were such... _assholes_." She shook her head and laughed a bit. She didn't swear often, so the word felt slightly unfamiliar on her tongue and to her ears, but it was the most accurate word that came to mind to describe them right now.

"Pretentious, even. But every year, all of them would get a little something from me. Though, half the time my parents weren't home for Christmas, anyway, and I often found my gifts in the trash the next day. But every year I kept it up until the day I left." Calvin sighed, glanced back at Sherlock, and then laughed with a shake of her head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this." she said, standing up and brushing the snow off of her striped pajama pants.

"No, it's... fine." Sherlock told her, stepping back to allow her back into the warm apartment complex. He shut the door behind her and turned to see her shaking snow off of her coat. She turned and locked eyes with him.

"What was Christmas like with your family?" she ventured to ask, making her sad thoughts of her earlier Christmases vanish with a smile as they headed up the stairs to 221B.

"Nondescript." he answered blandly, entering the flat where she instantly took to the couch as he sat in his armchair, immediately taking his violin and balancing it on his shoulder.

Calvin raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, that doesn't convince me." she teased, settling back in the comfort of the familiar couch with a blanket over her slightly dampened body. However, she dropped the subject. Just because she gave way too much information about her past, didn't make Sherlock obligated to share his. Her eyes were closing already as Sherlock began to play a soft tune for her, and that was the last thing she remembered.

OoOoOoOoOo

Christmas feels and Moriarty. Both shouldn't be in the same chapter, but we've all got to push the envelope some time.

I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! I had some trouble writing Moriarty, but I think I did it fairly well for my first time writing in a not already pre-determined setting, like the pool.

By the way, I'm curious, how do you picture Calvin? We know that she has blue eyes and long brown hair with bangs, but is there any celebrity that you picture her as? Just curious, because I don't really have one. She's just kind of... Calvin... Let me know in the reviews or PMs!

Gah, I'm tired. I need to sleep. I'm always tired when I write anymore.

Just a heads up, by the way, if there isn't a new chapter by this Thursday, then there won't be until Tuesday. Sorry, guys! I don't wanna leave you hanging but I won't have time to write while I'm at a con!

Anyway, Jess needs sleep! Let me know what you thought of this chapter, I love ya'lls!

Good night!

Jess


	24. Chapter 24

Calvin took presents to her family the afternoon of Christmas Eve, making sure to not spend more than an hour with them in case they tried to beg her to stay. Surprisingly enough, they respected her wishes and when she had to get home, they simply said good-bye and Merry Christmas.

Having merely worn jeans to her family's, Calvin headed for her flat to wear something a bit more flattering. She picked a square necklined, long sleeved white dress from the back of her closet. Not really being one for doing her hair and makeup, she simply let her hair out of its' bun and covered the dark circles under her eyes with foundation. With no more freshening up besides a new line of grey eyeliner, she trotted up the stairs. She decided to forego shoes, not seeing any need of them in her own house.

Lestrade had arrived by the time Calvin returned to 221B, and he opened his arm to give her a slightly awkward side hug and smiled at her as he wished her a Merry Christmas. He gave her attire an appreciative look.

John appeared next and gave her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Calvin smiled brightly at him, nudging him playfully with her hip as he retreated to give Mrs. Hudson a turn. She waved at Jeannette, whom she did not know well yet. Calvin turned next to Sherlock, who was standing against the mantel of the fireplace.

She gave him a teasing look and held her arms out to him. "Come on, Sherlock. It's Christmas. You have to be nice to me on Christmas." she told him cheekily.

"It's Christmas Eve, not Christmas." Sherlock reminded her blandly, though he pushed off of the mantel and swept down to hug her with one arm, the other hand staying in his pocket. Calvin chuckled as she pulled away.

"Presents!" she said excitedly, scooping up her ragtag pile of cards and the one large gift for John that she had left in the flat. She couldn't wait, she had to see them opened _now_.

"Molly isn't even here yet." John reminded her with an amused smile. Behind them, Sherlock began to play a Christmas tune, much to Mrs. Hudson's delight.

"Ohh! Wear the antlers, Sherlock!" she implored, holding them out to him.

"Yes, wear the antlers." Calvin agreed, grinning at him as she ignored John and passed the gifts out to their owners.

"That was wonderful, Sherlock. I do wish you would have worn the antlers, though." Mrs. Hudson said as the tune ended, only a little disappointed. Sherlock smiled at her.

"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs. Hudson." he told her. He set his bow down as Calvin thrust a card with a green and red bow into his hands. He stared at it for a brief moment before setting it next to his bow. Calvin sat next to Mrs. Hudson to make room for Jeannette to come through with a plate of food to offer around.

"No, thank you, Sarah." Sherlock said, and Calvin inwardly cringed at the mistake. She smiled in interest. John saw the look pass over Calvin's face before realizing what Sherlock had just said.

"Ah, no, no, no, he's not good with names." John assured her, coming to the rescue.

"No, no, I can get this..." Sherlock said, looking thoughtful. "No, Sarah was the doctor and then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose... and then who was after the boring teacher...?"

Jeannette cleared her throat, arms crossed. "Nobody." she said, obviously offended. Calvin willed herself not to laugh.

"Jeannette! Ah! Process of elimination!" Sherlock exclaimed happily. John gave him a disapproving look before leading Jeannette away, giving Sherlock a full view of Molly as she came up the stairs. "Ohh... no."

Calvin followed his gaze to see Molly and immediately got up to take the bags of presents from her hands, and thrust her present into her hand to replace it.

"Hello! Hello, everybody. Ah, the note on the door said just to come up, so..." Molly greeted as the rest of the room murmured their 'Merry Christmas'es. She stared at the card in her hand and Calvin grinned at her. Moly shrugged off her coat to hand to John, the reveal being somewhat of a shock to everyone in the room. She looked beautiful, Calvin thought, though somehow the look didn't suit her exactly.

"We're all having our Christmas drinkies, then?"

"There's no stopping them, apparently." Sherlock muttered, sitting at his desk and flipping the card that Calvin had given him in his hand.

"Okay, okay, Molly's here, so presents!" Calvin exclaimed, standing up. She never could wait to have her presents opened, she was just too excited.

"Alright, alright, here we go. I'll go first." John assured her as if he were speaking to an over-excited child, picking up his large box. Everyone quieted a bit to see what the big box was. Lestrade returned from the kitchen with a drink in hand for Molly.

He ripped open the paper to reveal the new laptop, on which Calvin bolded the letters 'Fingerprint Locked!' on the box. John laughed, reading the description aloud and the room chuckled at Sherlock's expense, all knowing that he often 'borrowed' John's laptop. John hugged her once more, placing another kiss carefully on her forehead, as he set his gift on the couch. Jeannette looked on disapprovingly.

"Thanks, Calvin." John murmured as he pulled away to sit down next to his frowning girlfriend.

Lestrade went next, opening his card with his eyes flying over the explanation of what would be happening to his car two days from now. His eyes widened and his face split into a grin.

"Oh... this is too much..." Lestrade said, but hugged Calvin in thanks as she shushed his protests.

"It's just enough. I've known these guys since college, they'll take good care of your car." Calvin assured him, grinning up at the D.I. She turned to see Molly looking uncertainly at the card in her hand. Calvin urged for Molly to open it, and she did so with renewed fervor, pulling out the two tickets to _Phantom at the Opera_ with a gasp.

"Oh... no! You shouldn't have!" Molly squealed, her face a mix of horrified and delighted. "I... don't know what to say!"

"Merry Christmas, Molly." Calvin said, giving her a hug as well. Calvin turned to look at Jeannette, and John leaned over a bit by her as she opened the small box that Calvin had handed her, and smiled at the set of earrings that sat in the plush.

"John helped me pick them out." Calvin assured her, though that was a complete lie. She was trying to help get him out of hot water, at least for tonight. Jeannette smiled, thanking Calvin and kissing John on the cheek. Success.

Calvin slid over to Mrs. Hudson, who had already begun to open her card out of sheer curiosity. When she did, reading the card and receipt, surprise covered her face and she seemed genuinely shocked at the gift.

"A new stove! Oh!" she exclaimed, showing the receipt to Sherlock and Lestrade with glee. "Oh, oh, how did you know, dear? This is too much... but... oh, how lovely! I don't know what to say."

Calvin blinked and smiled softly, bending down to hug the woman. Nothing else was needed to be said. The whole room turned to Sherlock. He stared back, uninterested.

"You don't have to open it now, Sherlock." Calvin told him with a shrug. "You don't have to open it at all, actually."

Sherlock huffed, leaving the card where it was. Calvin perked up a bit, turning to Molly. "Molly, how about you pass yours out, as well?" she suggested, picking up the mood a bit. She nodded, taking a sip of her wine before setting it down to reach for the bag of presents she brought.

"Hmm, yes. And I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him." Sherlock interjected, looking up from the laptop on the desk. She looked up from the bag of gifts she was beginning to pick up.

"Sorry.. w-what?" Molly asked, face turning slightly red. Calvin narrowed her eyes slightly, noting the tone of Sherlock's voice. She turned to look at him, but he would not allow her to catch his eye.

"And you're seeing him this very night. And giving him a gift."

"Take a day off." John said softly as Lestrade said, "Shut up and have a drink."

"Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best." Sherlock sighed, standing up and walking towards her. "Something special, then. The shade of red echoes the lipstick, either an unconscious association, one that she's deliberately trying to encourage."

"Sherlock." Calvin sighed under her breath, just a hint of forcefulness behind the small sound. He glanced back momentarily before ignoring her, and continuing the analysis that Calvin had already seen and understood. He was on his way to hurting Molly's feelings more than usual.

"Either way, Miss. Hooper has _love_ on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all. That all suggests long-term hopes, however forelorn." Sherlock deduced, flipping the red gift in his hands as he spoke. "And that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing. Or else, she's trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts-..."

"_Sherlock_." Calvin snapped, but that was not what ended his rant. He opened the little card on the gift, and presumably saw his name there. The room was silent, nobody knowing what to say.

"You always say such horrible things." Molly told him, cutting through the silence. "Every time. Always. _Always_."

Calvin, who was studying Sherlock's face, noticed the real look of guilt that covered his features. She knew that he felt like everybody else, but it wasn't often that she saw the raw emotion on his face. It was gone as soon as it came, however.

"I am sorry. Forgive me." Sherlock said, his voice reflecting true remorse. Calvin blinked, leaning against the mantel of the fireplace. He took a few more steps forward. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." He placed a kiss on her cheek.

The personalized text tone that John and Calvin had become accustomed to played in the very next moment, and Molly blinked rapidly in shock.

"Oh... no! No, that wasn't-.." she exclaimed before Sherlock interrupted her as he pulled out his phone.

"No, it was me." Sherlock assured her.

"What, really?" Lestrade exclaimed, and Calvin had to stifle her chuckling.

"My _phone_."

"Fifty... seven?" John mused aloud. Calvin turned and smirked at him.

"Sixty-two. You missed five while you were out the other day." she corrected as Sherlock muttered, "What?" at them.

"Okay, sixty-two of those texts. That we've heard." John clarified, furrowing his brow at Sherlock.

"You've been counting."

"Well, yes. Do you ever answer her or-..." Calvin began in her usual, teasing tone, before she turned around and saw Sherlock extract another red gift from his stocking. He stared at it for a moment before excusing himself.

"What... what is it, Sherlock?" John called after him.

"I said, excuse me." Sherlock replied coldly, heading for his room and shutting them all out. Calvin blinked a few times, trying to connect the text and the present. Obviously it e=was from Irene, but what could have effected him so?

The worried look on John's face scared her.

OoOoOoOoOo

I'm back. I'm so sorry. I got really busy at the end of summer and I'm working a lot and I'm moving and it's just hectic. I'm sorry.

This chapter was mostly for Calvin to give her presents. Boring, I know, but there is a point. And you'll find out what she got Sherlock possibly next chapter. Either way, I'm very excited to write the next two or three chapters. Very. Excited.

ANYWAY I HAVE STUFF TO DO SO I'LL LEAVE YOU NOW. SORRY FOR A MEDIOCRE UPDATE AFTER SO LONG. I LOVE YOU ALL, AND I APPRECIATE YOUR SUPPORT SO MUCH.

Jess


	25. Chapter 25

John stared at the closed door for a few moments before walking away, shaking his head slightly. Calvin gave him a bemused look and took a few steps towards the door that John just retreated from.

"Sherlock?" she called, twisted the doorknob just slightly and peeking in. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Get out." he snapped, pressing his hand to the door and pushing hard, effectively shutting the small crack that Calvin had opened. She blinked twice before smikring, also retreating from the door.

Within a half-hour, Sherlock burst from his bedroom and began to stride for the stairs leading to the front door on the ground floor. His face was expressionless, as always, but everyone noted the tension he was emitting.

"Where are you going?" John demanded, and the unspoken 'without us' was tacked on the end of that sentence silently by Calvin, who looked on with interest.

"St. Bart's. Don't wait up." he answered briskly, galloping down the stairs and out the door. Calvin heard a car door shut outside before the front door of the flat even closed. She glanced around the room at the others.

"I should... um. I should go help." Molly stuttered, pulling at her earrings and hair as she gathered a few of her things. Her glamoured appearance soon melted away, and she changed into a pair of jeans and a Christmas sweater in their bathroom.

"Um, Merry Christmas, everyone." she said, scrambling down the stairs to hail her own cab to the morgue. The room she left behind was silent, and Calvin felt the need to change into something more comfortable as well... the festivities were over.

OoOoOo

_Sherlock_

Sherlock glared down at the body as if he were angry with it for dying so easily. It was her, alright, the measurements of the body matched exactly if the face was a bit hard to distinguish. He walked away from the sight, leaving Molly almost gaping after him.

He found a quiet corner to brood in, feeling a odd sense of loss that he'd never been exposed to before this moment. It was a feeling he had never felt, never needed to feel, and would never want to feel again. He didn't like it. It was much too distracting. To battle the feeling, he watched the snow fall outside through the window, feeling the chill of the winter even through the glass.

As he expected, Mycroft's distinct footsteps feel behind him as a door opened and closed. A cigarette was held up next to his face, and he glanced back with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Just the one." Mycroft told him in that infuriating brother tone that he liked to use with Sherlock.

"Why."

"Merry Christmas."

Not needing more encouragement at the moment, Sherlock took the fag from his brother's fingers. He anticipated the sweet feeling of real nicotine running through his veins, filling his lungs in the way only smoking could provide. The patches never really _did it_ for him.

"Smoking indoors isn't one of those... law things, is it?" he asked as the older Holmes extracted a lighter from his coat. He lit it with ease, taking a long drag before letting the smoke float out of him slowly.

"We're in a morgue." Mycroft reminded him. "Only so much damage you can do." Sherlock didn't answer, concentrating on the familiar feeling of chemicals running into his bloodstrem through his capillaries.

"How did you know she was dead?" was the question that interupted his thoughts. He blinked.

"She had an item in her possession... one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up." He took another drag from his cigarette.

"And where is this item now?"

Sherlock chose not to answer, instead he focused his attention on the people down the hall. "Look at them. They all _care_ so much." he told his brother. That being said, Sherlock was blissfully unaware of how much he actually could care. "Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?"

"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock." was the answer that came. Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes. Obviously.

"This is low-tar." Sherlock realized, grimacing at the cig still between his fingers.

"Yes, well, you barely knew her." Mycroft told him. "If it had been a woman like Miss. Baker, I would be more inclined to supply you with a more potent way of slowly killing yourself." Sherlock gave a humorless laugh, turning and striding to the door to his left.

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft."

Mycroft stared after his brother. "And a happy New Year." he answered, reaching into his coat pocket.

Sherlock flicked ash off of his cigarette as he walked the cold streets of London, foregoing a ride home with an irritatingly talkative cab driver that only John would pity for having to work the holiday. He mused Mycroft's words, 'If it had been a woman like Miss. Baker...'

What? Sherlock was anticipating him to mention John or Mrs. Hudson as the person that it 'could have been'. But Calvin? He scoffed at the idea. He'd be mildly put off, at best, if she were to die. Mostly because he would not know the explanation of her name.

He frowned as he stubbed out his cigarette on the brick wall next to him, dropping it into the snow without a second thought. He wondered if he'd actually miss her presence. Doubtful, as he'd toyed with the idea of poisoning her once or twice... just to see what would happen. He'd discarded the idea after noting that John would be very upset with him if he'd killed her.

His mind was racing for any possible way that he'd be overly effected if Calvin Baker were to die tomorrow, and was surprised to find just a twinge of... something when he imagined a vivid portrait of her dead body on his kitchen floor. Shaking away the morbid thoughts angrily, angling his head down against the irritating snow flying into his eyes. Halfway back to Baker Street now. How much time had passed? It was getting colder.

Why? Why did he _care_... even just a little? He was _Sherlock Holmes_, he had more important things to worry about than insignificant, smug women that simply loved to challenge and evade him at every turn. He'd kissed her a few times in the past weeks purely out of curiosity and experimentation. He was trying to figure out if he did have an effect on her - which he was pleased to find out that he _did_ - and if she had an effect on him in return.

Finding a slightly elevated heartrate after his second kiss with her, he was displeased to find that his body was effected by hers. Not his mind, of course, he mind was still repulsed but his body responded as any man's would when kissing a beautiful woman. She was beautiful, after all, Sherlock just didn't _care_. He found the data interesting, that mind over matter didn't work as well in matters of, well, _sex_. But that was besides the point. Wait... what was the point, again? Sherlock didn't even know the answer to that question.

As the theme of this walk was to analyze his feelings towards Calvin Baker in comparison to Irene Adler, he moved on to another topic of her existence within his flat; her panic attacks.

Sherlock had concluded that Calvin harbored at least one type of anxiety disorder, though knowing facts about a person means nothing if they don't admit it. Especially if they are trying to hide and deny it. He'd seen her at her most vulnerable state, he'd seen her cry and sob, hell, he'd even seen her snuggled up against him, unconscious, needing the human contact after the pool incident. But no matter what he saw, she made him doubt that anything had happened at all.

He felt protective of her when he found that Moriarty was contacting her regularly, he felt the same way when shards of glass were embedded in her back and she begged him to play doctor. He enjoyed seeing her flustered, like when they slept in the same bed and she awoke to his presence.

What the hell was he thinking? She was insignificant. A mere psychology professor with a few good ideas and in way over her head in the crime field. She almost got herself killed too many times in the past few months, and could be considered a liability in his work. She was stubborn. She challenged him. She had nothing to offer him except irritation. She was frustrating in the worst possible ways.

But he still _cared._

He cared for her. He did. He cared for her in the same way he cared for John but... different, somehow. And he didn't know _why_. He didn't understand. She had somehow wormed her way into his life and now his mind didn't like the idea of her absence anymore.

He cared that Irene was dead because of her ability to beat him. He respected her for that reason along. But Calvin... she _couldn't_ beat him. She skidded past, evaded him only just, and ducked out of the way when he took a stab at her past... but she would never, ever _beat him_.

But she didn't want to. Calvin never wanted to beat him, disprove his genius, claim herself as his equal, what have you. She had stated herself, several times, that she was _not_ Sherlock, that she _didn't_ see the world the way he did, that she was _not_ of his caliber. She was so self-aware of her own existence and limitations that it made it seem as if she wasn't bound by them. But at the same time, she was still ordinary. Sherlock couldn't decide which side of the spectrum she belonged on.

Sherlock scowled at the ground as he swung open the door into 221 Baker Street. He didn't care when he tracked snow up the stairs and into the flat.

OoOoOoOo

Calvin sat with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. It was late, almost two am, and Sherlock wasn't home. She wasn't exactly worried, as it was Sherlock, after all, but she was feeling extremely anxious after having to search the entire flat for drugs.

The thought had never crossed her mind that Sherlock had ever done drugs. She'd seen him with the patches, of course, but he didn't even smoke anymore. The entire process shocked her... and, honestly, scared her.

Calvin worried nonstop about everyone close to her. It was part of her anxiety and that specific aspect was rather amplified after Chase's death. Even beforehand, however, she constantly thought about her friends that she had left behind. Were they remembering to buy groceries and pay the bills? Or when John was out with a girl... did Moriarty set him up with her? Was he in danger? Irrational worrying was her specialty, curbed with plenty of books and tea. But before today... she had never truly worried for Sherlock. Perhaps she regarded him as infalliable. He was strong, intelligent beyond her capacity to comprehend, and crafty as all hell. She never found herself worrying over his absence.

Calvin instantly scolded herself for putting him on a pedistal and regarding him as untouchable. It never would do to believe someone infalliable, untouchable. Because, no matter how inhuman he could seem, he _was_ human. He could fall, had fallen, and will fall again.

So now she was scared. She was scared because she did not want to see him fall. No drugs were found today besides an unopened pack of cigarettes in the kitchen... but apparently those were the least of anyone's worries regarding Sherlock.

When she heard the familiar pattern of three steps on the twelve-step staircase, she felt pressure in her chest loosen. She looked up slowly at his arrival while he gave John and herself a blank stare. His eyes took in the room slowly, not saying anything before turning and walking slowly towards his bedroom.

"Hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time." he murmured as he trudged down the hall, leaving snow in his wake that neither John nor Calvin would clean up. Calvin bit her lip as John sighed, hearing the bedroom close in finality once again.

"He's okay." John said quietly to himself, pressing his hand to his forehead. Calvin gave him a sympathetic look and nodded.

"And he will continue to be okay, John. He's lost someone. He won't be fine, but he'll be okay." Calvin assured him, closing her book and standing. She was definitely staying up here tonight, but whether she should speak to Sherlock or not before she allowed herself to relax was the question she was considering. John rose and mumbled a quick good night before trudging to his own room on the other side of the flat tiredly. She felt a pang of worry for him. He cared so much for his friend.

Calvin angled her body in the direction of Sherlock's room, taking a few tenative steps in that direction. What was she doing? She had never had this type of reluctance in speaking with Sherlock before. What had changed? He was the same person. He had done the drugs before she knew about it. There literally was nothing different. He would most likely turn her away... but she wanted him to know that she cared, even if he didn't.

So her steps became more insistent as she reached his door, knocking twice.

"Yes, Calvin." came his low voice from the other side, and she opened the door slowly, leaning against the frame.

"Can I come in?"

"Why are you asking permission. You never have before." Sherlock noted, staring at her almost accusingly from his chair on the other side of the nearly pitch-black room. Calvin could just make out his features.

She didn't comment on his tone. "I'm sorry." she said, taking steps into the room and sitting on the edge of his vacant bed. His eyes were still fixed on a spot beyond Calvin.

"Whatever for." Sherlock replied, voice becoming more condescending at this point and Calvin blinked. He had foregone this attitude regarding her for the most part, but by the look on his face he seemed to be angry with her for some reason. "It's not like you killed her."

"You know what I mean, Sherlock." Calvin said, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees, folding her hands as she stared up at him through her bangs. He turned his head a miniscule amount to look down at her, mouth pressed into a straight line.

He said nothing as his eyes swept over her. He took in the mussed head of hair and sweatpants and t-shirt that had replaced her white dress. Her mouth lacked it's usual hidden smile that lurked beneath the surface, taunting him. Now, her face was serious, open, and sparked with sympathy that Sherlock did not want from her.

He didn't know what he wanted, actually.

"Is that all you've interrupted me to say?" he asked her as he stood. Calvin moved her eyes to look up from under her lashes, not moving from her position even though he was trying to intimidate her with towering over her.

"What else would you like me to say, Sherlock?" she asked, moving her head slowly back to look up at him fully. He flinched. He hated the way she said his name, and she said it a lot in serious conversations with him. It made him feel strange, although it held nothing out of the ordinary.

"You came to me. I didn't come to you." he reminded her tartly, pursing his lips in irritation. She was the last person he wanted to see right now, especially when he was so undecisive about her. She was acting as different as he was, however. Did she think him horrid? Horrid for abusing the drugs that she had been previously unaware of?

No. She did not think him any more horrid than usual.

Then why was she looking at him so strangely. Was she scared? Angry? He wanted to ask but he knew she wouldn't give him a direct answer.

"Say what you need to say, Sherlock. I'm listening." Calvin welcomed, having been silent for at least ten minutes whilst he mused internally about her intentions. He blinked, staring down at her open face.

"I am sorry about Irene, Sherlock."

He blinked slowly, leaving his eyes closed for a just a second longer than what was perceived as 'normal' for a blink. "No matter."

"It matters." Calvin insisted.

"No."

"If it didn't matter to you, there would not be cigarette smoke on your breath."

Sherlock scowled, angry now at her interference. "Don't comment on matters that you have no knowledge of. You do that enough, already. Now, get out." he commanded, flicking his chin at the door. Calvin cocked her head and smiled up at him.

"Okay." she agreed, standing up. With the movement, she was very, very close to Sherlock. Neither of them backed off for a moment, Calvin's face mere inches below Sherlock's as her knowing smile played around her lips.

"Did you ever open my present, by the way?"

"I didn't want it. Leave."

"Sherlock." she implored, glancing at the envelope laying on Sherlock's nightstand. He scowled at her, leaning over to snatch it from its resting place and ripping it open with his eyes trained on hers.

A card was all it was. It read simply,

_You may ask anything of me. _

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock." Calvin told him, smiling in that way as she backed off from him, heading for the still-open bedroom door with easy steps. She turned and smiled at him at the doorframe before disappearing without shutting the door...

...Much to Sherlock's immediate irritation.

OoOoOoOo

Attention. This was an extremely hard chapter to write and I apologize if I failed miserably. It is very hard to write from Sherlock's POV because I imagine his mind jumps all over the place instead of focusing on one linear thought (that's what the mind palace is for) And that is very hard to portray in a manner that everyone can read and understand. So yeah. And in general, the characterization was very difficult. This was just difficult. I apologize.

Anyway. I am so sorry about the month-long wait. I am extremely stressed out and busy with AP classes, work, applying to college, mountains of homework, asdfghjkl sorry I don't like complaining or making excuses but yo Jess is just so overwhelmed.

I'm dying of exhaustion right now, or I'd say more.

So yeah. I still love ya'lls and I am still here and Season 3 is still NOT HERE GODDAMMNNITTT

This chapter didn't pan out exactly as planned but these characters have a mind of their own, I swwweeeaarrr.

Okay.

Good night.

I love you.

Let me know your thoughts.

Jess


End file.
